After Dark
by SDoradus
Summary: The developers assert no canon exists. But only one ending allows for a future. Assume a paragon space-born war hero soldier, which implies no romance with squad mates, and my best guess at a canonical non-fantastic plot. Perhaps one with the possibility of children, though that turns out to be very restrictive. What's the likely aftermath?
1. Broken Symmetry

**After Dark**

_Trinity_

At the fifth shot Shepard began to see some instability in the raving torrent. His main impression was that the halt and lame movements of his shredded and bleeding frame seemed to smooth out as time slowed and the fall of shot settled on the flux gate.

This was visibly the end, yet he didn't seem to care. Odd. Like one of Williams' sappy bits of verse.

_We found her at last. What? The death eternal._

_This tide, gone with the day. _

Then the world was on fire and his last thought, however banal and inglorious, was _Mother -_

_From human care, collective impulse_

_Disengage, and steal away._

* * *

_Hannigan_

Other than closing the arms to stop another Reaper getting in, nothing went to plan. The fleet had done their best but the Citadel had been taken from them by the simple expedient of attaching Sovereign-class Reapers to the closed hull and waltzing it straight through the mass relay.

At that point, the military focused on preventing the residue of Cerberus, husks, marauders, and what have you from making their way down the wards, which had been under powerful attack, but held. Strangely, the Cerberus coup had helped. There were arms, men, C-Sec, _militias_, even repurposed Cerberus autocannon, an astonishing number of Turian military, mostly walking wounded but they would kill reepie-creepies if they had to _crawl_.

Tactus, for one, whose story was not clear to Hannigan but who carried himself like Garrus. She, he, and Chloe had combined on the crisis teams because he mysteriously had a source of civilian emergency _laevo_-rations and equipment. They carefully did not inquire where the old turian warrior had got them.

Two days ago, the cupola at the tip of the wards had closed, after the withdrawal of C-Sec from the Presidium. Tactus had become worried and puzzled by the little which could be seen of the planet below. LIDAR showed exceptionally low orbit, you could sometimes see scattered fires and city structures through cloud cover, not much else, they were night-side over rubble.

Is that bad? – Dr Michel had asked. "_Forced synchronous. Gotta be. We're not orbiting at all, we're hovering._" "_So?_" Muffled sounds of battle were filtering through the walls. Tactus turned and looked at the bright beam obscuring the view through the Presidium Ring. "_What happens when th__at__ anchor drops? __We have to have a Plan._"

Hannigan could only suggest getting to the control centre at the top of the Presidium tower. That was better than the fever dreams of some who still thought in terms of taking a taxicab ("_You'll be shot out of the sky_", said Tactus).

Bailey of C-Sec had considered something could be done, "... _but you would need council authentication._" He couldn't spare many men. She had thought for five seconds and said (some pangs of guilt there):

"Would old Spectre access codes work?" She'd filed those remote codes to the Illusive Man ... through EDI's cryptological escrow. (EDI, clever girl, never delivered them. If Cerberus wanted to work the Presidium controls they'd need a tame Councilor or Spectre).

_Soul on sentry-go, let's whisper our promise_

_From that night of the void and that day of fire._

_Tactus_

Tactus was uneasily aware that his comrades had hidden depths. It wasn't simply that the women were decorative (especially Hannigan) and smart (especially Michel), even by asari standards. Being cute isn't a hidden depth. But they were actually competent, despite having been, er, recommended as human liaison by people one did not ignore, like Vakarian or Bailey who seemed improbably well connected on both sides of the law.

Many like them filled aid posts after people vanished. Cerberus had hit, and suddenly there were vacancies to be filled. After obscure threats from mercs or Cerberus against humans _and_ aliens, all the asari, and at least one volus, had stopped coming to work.

"How old are these access codes, babe?" - asked Tactus, warily. Michel just gave the girl a knowing look, dammit. Michel had been fairly high-profile, the doctor with a murky past, but least he knew a little of her story. No-one knew anything about Hannigan.

These two stood out together. Something about the pair of them did not compute. They were thick as thieves, and angels with rocket-loaded wings hovered around their shoulders. Chloe Michel never lost her cool. Hannigan occasionally did. She stiffened up when certain people hove into view, like that fool from the Blue Suns. She had something to hide too, avoided any kind of limelight, which Michel did not.

Both of them had been on first-name terms with Vakarian and Bailey; between them all four had serious leverage with rations and supplies – which helped explain why their refugees worshiped them. That pissed the black-marketeers. When Vakarian and Bailey left on other business, Tactus and Michel faced serious death threats. Tactus had then seen Hannigan whispering urgently to that evil bastard Massani, which grabbed his attention by the fringe. The threats disappeared. So did the mob. As in, some of them weren't there anymore, and the rest weren't sayin' nuthin' to nobody. Dangerous profession.

"They date back a few months, for one set. I don't think Spectre codes expire, as such, they just ring bells which won't be heard right now. A few weeks for the other set, but these were, um, renewed recently with slack biometrics. That might get us beyond the embassies."

"Hm." Tactus had considered for a few seconds. "It's worth an expedition. Let's do it." - meaning platoon-strength infiltration.

Sneaking through enemy territory around the ring should have taken hours, but for some reason the heavy concentrations of enemy troops had gone elsewhere. Just as well; most of his troop had serious firepower and wouldn't trade big weapons for speed. Depressingly few of them were even in sight.

_Michel_

The ring had been remodeled, probably by keepers. There was an impossible number of corpses. Michel had stooped to examine a few. "These bodies are _old_. A couple of weeks, at least. Preserved somehow. There's saponification here too. What _is_ this?".

There were also structures now which had never existed before, full of dead husks, but Chloe knew her way around _this_ area. On nearing the base of the Presidium elevator, the arms opened, shattering C-Sec's front lines – not that the husks could outflank them. "What can this mean?" Then the Earth-anchoring beam flickered out. "Nothing good." – Tactus could be such a downer. Probably a Turian thing. My god, so many _ships_. And ... pieces of ships. _Reapers!_ "Keep going!"

Morale was briefly up. There were dead reapers falling to the dark planet below. Ships too, but there were far, far more ships than Reapers, and more arriving; the space around the open Citadel was relatively free.

Tactus jimmied open an elevator door. All three ventured inside. Michel stood on his shoulders and pushed open the access plate. After boosting Hannigan to the roof, both the women helped the Turian up. Moving up the shaft three hundred meters, they could break into the surface of the elevator bridge. There was a new scene of calamity, but with retention fields up, breathers could come off. Tactus was the first out, and the first to look around for the rest of the platoon. "_Spirits!_"

Tactus was visibly upset, which made Hannigan scramble. "What is it? What's wrong!" He just pointed. "What. Is. _That_." asked Tactus.

A tremendous great rod with a basketball head, like no ship any of them had ever seen, was knocking aside resistance as it made its way towards the opening base flaps, straight towards the Presidium ring. More precisely, the base of the Tower's central spire.

Michel was just as shocked as Tactus. But Hannigan ... she was giving that _thing _a long, considering look.

"I think ... I might not be supposed ..."

"_Hannigan_! Look around you!" Tactus waved in the general direction of Out There. Space was full of dead reapers. And other bits. Some of these monsters were kilometres long and already blazing through the atmosphere, couldn't be good for anyone below, hope they're plasma before they hit the ground. What did this mean for the Reapers? The Citadel?

"All right – " she began reluctantly

"Felicia. _No_." Michel took Hannigan's elbows and looked her in the eyes. "We don't know what's going on. What would he – would _Hackett_ want?"

Tactus' eyes narrowed. "You can't just drop that name and leave it there. _What do I need to know_?" Hannigan put her face in her hands.

Michel turned back to Tactus. "What she suspects ... Don't push it. Please. But I think ... this is an Alliance device. And that's all you need. Just how it works will be clear. But I think I know how she guesses it. Will that do?"

"That thing's about to rip the the Presidium off the hinges and – no wait, it's docking." It was, too. They watched, enthralled, as the head came to within metres of the tower base, which appeared to open – an answering beam joined with it; the docking point glowed, and something in the base glowed in response. Soon enough, a quivering continuous stream developed between them.

She shook her head. Tactus cleared his throat. "We still have to get to the tower."

"Yes. The arms' opening has stopped the ground beam. That monstrosity may interfere with the forced orbit."

"But Chloe, won't we just fly into space?"

"No. When a forced circular orbit fails, we'd be at periapsis of what will then be an elliptical orbit." Hannigan blinked; Michel sighed and changed mental gears. "We _will_ go flying off into space. But we'll come back to the same point, except there will be EM drag on a body this size from that planet's magnetic field, if it has one. It certainly has an atmosphere, you can see the hazy horizon. Every time the Citadel dips back near the atmosphere, there will be more drag. Sooner or later we're all doomed by whatever that is, Hackett's weapon or not. Time to go."

"Fine. But inside the elevator tunnels, please. I don't want to be near that beam. It has a lean and hungry look."

_Radio_

When the mother and father of all cataclysms hit, they were deeply embedded in keeper tunnels. Next thing, it was like the end of the world; all space glowed red around them. Ten minutes later, they emerged. Tactus picked up a Phalanx pistol from a corpse. God knew where he got the stamina to carry a rifle, pistol, _and_ a backpack.

The artificial gravity weakened. So did the atmosphere. "_Breathers_", directed Tactus. The girls hated this part. On the other hand it was getting light. Great piles of what Michel described as concrete rubble blocked the direct path up the spire. The raw material was known to be a sideritic iron. In other words the Citadel had been built from asteroid cores. That cladding had smashed, brittle fracture from impossibly high strain rates. Hannigan observed broken fragments with the sparkly gray texture of a broken cast iron frying pan. It cut your hands and other parts if you weren't careful.

Hannigan looked around for an easier way up. There was gravity again.

Surely nothing electronic could have survived the initial EM pulse, let alone the peculiar red glow that expanded behind it – in fact, radio comm had paused. What they carried with them into the tunnels still worked, like her omnitool. Some shielded Citadel optical tech was still working. Portions of the wards still had mass effect fields confining breathable atmospheres.

The team stopped for a draught from the sippers; Michel cast a jaundiced eye at the rising day-side planet: "Is that looming closer?"

"No," Tactus said. "It's an optical illusion. The ring and ball give you perspective". Hannigan nodded at Michel. "Right. Like a full moon rising over the sea". Poor girl had been away too long and had difficulty recalling an orange moon on the horizon.

But this was forced optimism. Clearly, sparks of system life not withstanding, the Citadel was on borrowed time. It was around the size of the K-T dinosaur killer, although not traveling at forty kilometres a second. If EM drag decayed its orbit much more ... well, going from forced geosynchronous to atmosphere, the impact would merely boil the sea for, oh, a hundred kilometres around, say, the Azores, right _there_... oh dear ...

_Detection_

"There's an issue". Chloe pointed at the planet above the ring, and their gaze followed. "... Well? Right. We've been moved. So what?"

"Earth", said Chloe, in a flat, bitten-off sort of way. Hannigan shrieked briefly then covered her mouth and shrank into a corner.

They could still see the strange shattered spermatozoon hanging together by threads from the spire's base, two hundred meters off. Weird. Even in tatters, most of it vaporized, it was tremendous. Time to get rid of it. But they'd have to cross shards of broken cladding.

"Hannigan, up!"

"Leave her alone!". "No, this won't do. Tactus seethed:"We have to get moving. There's still the small matter of can we get that _fucking_ thing off the _fucking tower _ so we can maybe _close_ this station or at least _engage the bloody thrusters!_"

"It's OK, Chloe. Just give me a moment, please, Tactus. It was a shock."

The team had reached level sixteen elevator ledge, counting from the tower base. It was barely possible to see in orbital twilight, but she examined her bleeding hands. _Not worth expending medigel on this_. Taking textile strips – ripped bed sheets, looted from Chloe's bag – she bound her palms and wrists, looking back. Sluggards catching up now, looked to be near the elevator base. She waved.

Best path was around the spire's base, thought Tactus. The debris of the shattered presidium ring was still circulating in what amounted to free fall, except where artificial gravity still worked around active mass effect generators.

Floating reaper corpses had stopped twitching now, but those souls still on the Citadel remained in peril. _Look around. P__ay attention._ Where were the rest of the Reapers?

"The beam's gone. We can at least look". They moved on, through the elevator bridge and into the spire base. Hannigan now gripped the M11 Suppressor John had given her, more her size. Michel had a pack also, tiny, and her Gladstone bag, an affectation but it went everywhere with her in the camps and had saved more lives than she could count. Back they'd gone into the narrow warrens of keeperdom, trying not to be noticed. They couldn't see any reaper creatures. Were they all dead? Perhaps they could move openly, but there were a lot of human dead too.

"C-Sec and the militias were well organized. Nothing like this many deaths", said Tactus. "Where did all these human corpses come from? I've seen a couple of asari, but no turian at all, nor salarian."

Hannigan turned and gazed at the newly visible terminator line. "How long have we been back?"

"No more than sixteen days," said Michel. "Which, I note, is about enough time for Hackett to bring his fleets here."

Hannigan thought for a moment. "That's time enough to account for all the corpses. But I'm surprised they didn't have a processing plant like – what was reported of the Collectors." She shivered.

Traitor memories. Think about something else. Flashbacks had prompted her old boss, and it hurt to think of him, to insist – against protest – that she at least practice with a service pistol. Much heavier than her current "_popgun_". It was supposed to be therapy against a feeling of total helplessness. Okay, but it was painful – the recoil nearly broke her wrists – till the commander took her to a Spectre gun range.

His hands tenderly enfolding hers in the correct grip still shone in memory. As did the kiss on her neck. Totally destroyed her concentration. How was a girl to shoot straight? But that had been the point. Emphasize the _how_. Husks did not survive a headshot.

She felt better now. Michel was giving her an odd look. "Perhaps that was for later? They've been clearly very busy with a counterattack."

"Hm. Have you noticed there's no encryption static? Radio carrier's gone again."

Michel stopped, tilted her head to one side. "Good catch. Tactus, test your guns". He drew the Phalanx and ... "There's no laser sight. _Crap! _ The electronics are dead!"

"Pull the trigger. No, don't. We don't know what it will do. You'd have to kill the next husk with a stick. Good thing they're dead already."

Tactus grinned evilly, and unslung his rifle. "Ancient human Lancer M-7. The only electronics is in the sights. Doesn't use thermal clips. What about yours?" Hannigan passed the M11. Tactus examined it carefully. "And where did you get this?"

"Not telling. Why?"

"It's a hold-out weapon. Very highly modified human design. Expensive, because illegal, it's silenced. These things pass detectors, at least when disassembled. Don't depend on electro-optical tech. It might still work. Wait." He moved off a short distance, held out the gun, turned his face away, and fired. The slug ricocheted off the broken metal and plaster cladding, and shot into space. "Okay. Here. Always knew you came from the dark side, folks. You're too cute to be real." Turian grin.

Humans came in all sorts of shades. The bleached ones like these two, you could see traceries of blue arterial blood under the skin. Those pale cheeks turned bright red. Michel and Hannigan looked at each other. "Never said we didn't." Heh.

Feeling as though he'd just scored some sort of obscure point, Tactus stowed the Phalanx in the pack. Logically he should have dropped it, but it was hard for a turian soldier to abandon a weapon. Michel admired the way he moved on tiptoe, hypervigilant for husks. But there were none, only corpses, the strange waxy humans. "We've got to find a control kiosk."

"Why? It'll take days for orbital decay even with an elliptical orbit.." A long stare from the Turian. "Hannigan. Look out there. No live Reapers, right?"

"R .. Right. So? That's good, no?"

"Do you see any live Council warships? I don't. Lots of pieces. But I think every ship still able to move, Reaper or Council, has buggered off. I think that red glow had something to do with the dead reapers, because you can see crackling red light all over them, but not over that cruiser broken in two, so maybe the Reapers are all dead. But maybe not. And maybe the Council will come back. But maybe not. And when, anyway? _We've got to undock that thing and get this place moving. _And can I say I really, really hate all this mysterious bullshit!"

She sighed. "Tactus – "

"Out with it, Hannigan."

"Hackett is responsible, sort of, for _that._ I think. And ... do you remember Vakarian?"

"Can't forget the prick, beat my sniper score at the arena. Lived next door to us, yes. Had this astonishing quarian girlfriend. I think. Hated Blood Pack, but had an absolutely huge Krogan friend, bloody strange. Hated Blue Suns too, had that in common with Massani. Pure death on Eclipse, but traded insults with an asari, some diplomat's daughter, joked she was a quarter krogan."

"Er ... Okay, that's him. He wouldn't tell me what he was doing, any more. And I think his people were expecting me to try and charm it out of them. So I didn't, except... I'm ... I think I'm disgraced ... at least, I sort of couldn't stay on the crew. But I'm aware who Vakarian was working with. And one of them, I'm sure, was the current Primarch.".

Tactus stared. Crew, what crew? This ... human ... _guttersnipe_ had just told him, in deadly serious terms, that she knew or worked with the Primarch's entourage. And the human admiral whose fleets saved the Citadel and the Council. Which was beyond impossible.

On the other hand ... there was Massani, who talked to her like she was some sort of favorite niece, and Bailey. _You look out for __those__ wom__e__n, mister. Do you hear me?_ Bloody frosty cop. And it was a very, very terminal career move to annoy a Primarch. Almost as bad as ticking off Massani.

"Alright. This just gets weirder, but so far in a good way. Where to?"

Michel looked around and up. "Keeper tunnels. Converge _there_", just below the tower base. "The place has completely disintegrated. The tunnels will be blocked."

"But there's atmosphere." There was, too. This close you could see the faint blue flickering of a hemispherical retention field right over the base and intersecting the remains of the ball's docking clamps.

"That's where the dual interior thruster and arm controls will be. We'll have to climb over. And gravity is all over the place, but what, point two _g_ here, now." Tactus set down his pack and withdrew ... a coiled rope. "You shower ever abseiled before?" Hannigan put her hand up.

Twenty minutes later, smoking flaky corpses took Michel's eye. Not waxy. Strangely burnt and charred.

"But it's just another dead human, no?"

"No, Tactus. We have to check this. His cover's an Alliance uniform képi. The first I've seen among the victims, here. And this close? It's surely related. The controls are _there, _you can see them, the platform is smashed but the haptics are still up, _we can do this_. And that body's maybe got a key!"

"Hannigan's codes -"

"Might not work. Tactus, we need to check it out".

"All right, already. Shit. Cast your end over there, I'll tie it off. Right. Come on."

_Ranging_

_All because from you alone, silky ashes, _

_Duty breathes its last where none will say: at last._

Michel had the body to herself for about a minute while Tactus fussed and Hannigan dragged herself over the parapet into the rubble, and grabbed a sip from her bottle. She had needed both hands, so clipped the gun to the small of her back.

"Oh, _my_ ... did he burn to death, Chloe?"

"Blood loss, sweets, the heat came _post mortem_. Bullet to the abdomen, somewhat palliated by his vest but he's bled out. _Fichtre_, this is strange, he's been burned badly and his clothes are cut up, but it's a ranking flag officer. In a lower voice, she muttered as she checked for identification, _Mais qu'est-ce que tu veux bien faire dans cette gal__è__re, mon brave__?_

Hannigan sat up. EM spectrum back up now, chatter showing a minuscule portion of her flock was finding a haven on unidentifiable vessels. Thrusters glowed as diffuse lights in the fog, dust, and mist of disaster in a low-gravity environment. Michel had estimated as much as half of the ward areas might have survived, sheltering those who avoided processing husks. All right then. Something technological still lived. Her spirits rose a little.

She clambered over to Michel, gasped, placing a hand against the cold cheek. "Chloe, this is Anderson! Used to be Shepard's boss." Tactus looked up with interest from his perch. "No shit? The Councilor?"

"Yes, but not for long."

"We can't carry him with us. Just make a note, check the pockets. But didn't he lead the local military? Any other Alliance here?"

Michel looked puzzled. Then, sharply: "Yes, where's his staff? There must be others."

"There's one over the top ledge and that guy there – " Tactus indicated another blob five meters away – "But it's in civilian clothes."

"Expensive though. This is no _franc-tireur._ Black alpaca." Michel made her way there to check for life signs. "Hannigan, give me a hand here. Turn and lift. Right. Hey, this guy's shot himself I think – ..." Hannigan shrieked again, louder this time.

"Kid, will you stop that? You're getting on my nerves."

"Tactus,_ those eyes_. Michel, this is the Illusive Man – ..."

"_What!_"

"Trust me, that jacket, that face, that's _him_. Chloe, please tell me he's really dead!"

"Felicia, look here ..." Michel turned the head. There was a great gaping exit wound. Half the brain shot away.

"... but that's odd ..." Little blue lights in the brain tissue. "Cerberus implants," said Hannigan, grimly, breathing hard.

"I'm really not following this, but ..."

"Tactus, shut up. No, wait, didn't you say there's another one?"

"Yes, but that's not important. We've got company. Look up there."

Hannigan cast her eyes up to the remains of the control platform. In the silence of vacuum, a _shuttle_ was approaching the retention field. "Oh crap, _Cerberus_ – "

"NO." Tactus was suddenly in front of her face. "It's been painted over. White and black but no yellow and no insignia. Someone's repurposed an old Cerberus tug. But come on, they'll be looking for these guys!"

"Then let's get to the last one before they do!" And it was a mad scramble, but Tactus got there first. "This ones _breathing!_"

Tactus felt a little put off by the way Michel pushed in and squirted her sipper over a blackened arm. "Hold this bottle, I've got to get IV in. Felicia hurry up with the alcohol, I need a vein –"

This time Hannigan _SCREAMED._

_Three Unities_

_Life holds no domestic hope; no creative act._

Jesus, she clipped into berth faster than Hannah. "Not so fast, Lawson, you'll break the damn pad".

"Cool it, it's already broken. We'll have to idle the core. Should support human weight."

"Damn, there's someone there already!"

"I see it, Toombs. Turian, two women, no environment suits. What the hell? She's all over that one – "

"Turian's pulling her off. Other one's laying intravenous – "

"The tracker's peaking _right there!_"

"Oh, we're not having this. Take over! Ernesto, grab a stretcher, Toombs, with me!"

Miranda stormed out so fast he could hardly follow, but he'd remembered to grab the winch line, too, and trailed after as best he could. Toombs followed behind with a corporal and two troopers, armed to the teeth, a bit of an overreaction to the Turian with the old gun in his view but entirely typical of the man.

Toombs tried to ignore the hysterical bint crying on her knees now, Miranda was pushing her off. The other woman must be a medic, but the crispy looked pretty far gone, was it him, was it even human? Oh. N7 tags. Shit. Christ, what's left of him? Better off dead.

"Doctor! I want him on the stretcher NOW."

"He's in no fit state – "

"He's _dead _ again if we don't GET MOVING. Toombs, get on the winch! Hover here. Ernesto, fit up the stretch splint, right, good, GO. Mate, if you wave that in my face again you're a dead Turian. Doctor, you good? Others on the winch now! Slower, slower, okay. Doctor, you're up! Keep him alive – "

"It's only postponing the inevitable, he might only have minutes. I can stabilize him a little but it will be a miracle if he makes it. If you can do one ..."

"You'd be surprised. I'm not going to argue – "

"I _could_ chill him. Medium term, you, the Captain and Hackett then have options, long term – there's nothing left that can fix this."

"Don't bet on it. On board, now!"

"I'm coming with him!"

"You? You damned _spy_, you should be _dead_."

Never in the rest of his life would Tactus forget that _boot_ smashing into her chest. She went flying. Only the rope stopped another orbital organic satellite. Five seconds' frantic grapple ... his ears heard the hatch closed, but couldn't look till he had the girl safe. His eyes watched the shuttle leave the platform until his ears reported sobs at his feet.

"Babe." More sobs.

"_Hannigan_. The codes. What would Anderson have done? Would he have lain there?"

The sobs subsided. "Anderson? No. You're not wrong. The man who lay there would not have lain there. We have a job. Help me."

"Attagirl." It took three minutes to clamber over four metres of jagged quasi-metallic rip-rap. The haptic console chimed to her touch. There wasn't any sound crossing the vacuum to the retention field, but some of the wards moved, a little. More importantly, the thrusters visibly blew off the peculiar ragged blob attached to the spire. Some relative movement was happening here. Would it be enough?

Tactus watched her sit, pull up her legs, lock her fingers around them and lay her forehead against her knees. Strange human quirky reaction to stress – .

Quiet sobs.

Or being winded. "Look, I don't understand any of this – "

"Please."

"... alright".

The world turned. "The platoon will be here soon. We have to get back."

"You go."

"Spirits."

There was a fragment of raised dais. He pulled her to her feet, and almost carried her there, vaguely protesting, sat her down. She lay down, curled up, the same position.

Tactus found a cloth bag full of torn sheet strips. It sort of made a pillow. There was a sedative in Michel's bag. And water. "Babe. Sit up. I know, just for a minute. Take this. Okay. I've got first watch."

It seemed like forever since he last sat down.

* * *

_Pentimento_

_Sure is the torture of patient science. _

"Christ on a crutch, Lawson, what have you done?" Miranda stared at Zabaleta. "Ernesto – "

"Don't you Ernesto me. I saw who that was."

"Doesn't matter anyway, she's a spy."

"The _hell_ you say. More importantly, the guy she might have spied for is _dead_."

"She was a civilian seconded for the Illusive Man's purposes. Generally I shoot spies. At least I let her live."

"That wasn't her only job on the crew. She didn't know better anyway. But even that's not the point. Shepard was working for him when she knew them _both_. And _y__ou_ were reporting to the same guy!"

"Not those details."

"Just how could _you_ possibly know _that_? The commander thought there were too many electronic bugs, remember. Mordin and the AI dug them out."

"Yeah. After the collector mission I told them where to look."

"But did you really think your boss told you about all of them? Remember the Chronos station video? _"I need Shepard invested_." I'll bet you're annoyed because she was a live bug not under your control. You must have been real happy she never came back."

"Only because she was the world's worst soldier."

"She didn't have practice. Anyway she had other talents. Shepard didn't want her as a soldier."

"And how could you _possibly_ know any of _that_?"

"Hackett and his mother, how else! Your client!"

"Hackett's my client, at least he pays the bills."

"Tell that to Hannah next time you see her." Another beat. "I'd have found him for my own reasons anyway. Shepard would have let Wilson live, but dead spies are good for him. Look, I'm not going back – "

"Oh yes you are."

"Doctor, this isn't your business."

"My patient, my business."

"I fail to see how –"

"He's had a life and an afterlife, no rest in either. Ms. Lawson, stop. I have heard of you. Have you heard of me?" Miranda looked fiercely at Dr Michel –

"Perhaps Garrus said one or two things." – but the daggers bounced off.

"Pay attention then. Did you love him?"

"Garrus?"

"Don't be obtuse. This is important, especially for you."

"Well ... storge, agape, eros, or philia? I admit nothing."

"All of the above, but you understand me perfectly. Did anyone else love him?"

"I think we all did. I mean they did. I'm including the men. And most of the aliens. Even if he killed their mother."

"Meow. Next question. _Did he love them?_"

"Of course. He'd never admit it. Even the ship, likely dead now, so he killed that too."

"She understood. I'm sure Hackett's working on that. What about you?"

"He did his duty. Socializing meant dinner with paparazzi, brokers, secretaries or cops. Ancient military protocol meant no affairs within the squad." Miranda sighed. "Squadmates were mission-critical, so that never happened. Even equal rank was dodgy."

With deliberate speed, Chloe Michel finished the cold packing and monitors. She stood up and looked Miranda in the eye. "You don't fool me." Miranda went scarlet. "I know another secret," she continued, slowly.

"You're _not_ suggesting – " Miranda vibrated in denial. "Sure am. Ms Goto mentioned it. And you would have known it too, had you been honest with yourself."

"Oh, no. Never in life. She always kept a little distance."

"Oh, yes. Well brought up. But _after_ rescue? All she had to give was her charming self. Just ask around the crew. Or ... his mother maybe."

Michel jabbed a thumb at the quasi-corpse.

"Ask _him_, when – if – he wakes up. Do you have the nerve? He'd have to choose." Miranda's face worked; Michel shook her head. "Look, I'm done arguing. Operative Lawson: you have left a crewmate, on that rock. You are going back. Or I promise you, if he ever speaks again, it will not be to you."

Silence, then – "Toombs."

"On it, ma'am."

Thursday, November 14, 2013 -17/17-


	2. London Calling

**After Dark**

_Coats_

_"God ... They're all gone."_

_"Did we get anyone to the beam?"_

_"Negative. Their entire force was decimated."_

_"It's too much. We need to regroup. Fall back to the buildings."_

_"Hammer's wiped out. All forces! Retreat! Pull back! Pull back!"_

* * *

"Sir, that's not ... quite ... right."

Coats turned back to the reporting sergeant. "What isn't right?"

The sergeant looked up from her spotting camera. "They weren't wiped out, though they were more than decimated, Sir. But I see movement by a flipped APC."

Coats ran over to his ancient .50 bipod sniper and quickly checked out the indicated area. It was nearly four hundred metres off and the image was washed out by the glare of the transit beam, but in fact one or two "corpses" were still moving. One had propped himself up and sat back against the upturned armored shell; the wounded man rested a pistol in the crook of his elbow, taking careful aim, at an approaching Marauder. Coats took the long shot ... "_Nailed_ you, you bastard git of a machine."

An exclamation from the comm team jerked his attention away. Three destroyers and the capital ship – Harbinger? Were taking off again. Must think that the forlorn hope can be dealt with by ground troops.

Well, let's see about that. Coats turned back to his sniperscope. Pulled back again.

The sitting soldier began to get up, shot at something else outside his field of view. He began moving painfully towards the beam.

"At least one's about to make it inside, sir. I think he's maybe twenty metres from the beam." Cranking up the magnification on the scope and dropping filters, Coats panned right, saw a raggedy-ass limping man, shedding bits of – armor? "Yes, I see." He pulled back the magnification.

"Sergeant, drop polarizing filters, cast an eye on the right hand side."

"Copy that, Sir."

The glare was still intense, but there were husk bodies around the beam and another marauder taking a potshot at the limping man. He zero'd the sights and was about to take the shot but the rag doll must have beaten him to it – the head jerked back seven times and it collapsed. Couldn't have been the officer on the left side of the beam, that was too far for a pistol.

Pan right again. That dead-eye dick was running now, sort of. "Go, go, go" he muttered sotto voce, willing him on till he stepped into the beam and vanished. "Sergeant, did you catch that?"

"Affirmative. Sir, that other one in the naval cap, he'd gone very slowly from the upturned Mako on the left that nearly made it to the beam. I thought he was done for, but I just checked back and he's not lying there. I think he's gone up too."

"Max, get a message off to Hackett, Forlorn Hope has breached."

"Sir." And a little while later: "Incoming fleet comm, Sir."

"_This is the admiral. We've got reports that someone made it to the Citadel. __We need to give them time to get those arms open. All fleets, Converge on the Crucible. Protect it at all costs.__"_

Now it was a waiting game. They still had to defend against ground troops, but with the big Reapers distracted the remnant marines had a chance. Coats began planning.

"Max, tell Fire Teams Dog through Foxtrot to dismount six men each, and advance in two leapfrogging skirmish lines on foot, one APC per team for fire shadow. Mission is wounded rescue but jump the beam if opportunity presents. Be ready to pick them up if the big reapers come back or you see something like Brutes. Call back to Ben for troops."

Fifteen minutes later, Coats began to move. Twenty minutes later, he was about to lead his men in ... when the beam went out.

_Trinity_

The rear observation post on Big Ben was even more dark now. "Any word from Hackett?"

"Crucible has docked sir, and there's some kind of major circulating plasma flow from the core to the Citadel, but nothing's happening yet. Latest update is he's in contact with the Forlorn Hope that opened the arms ... wait, there's a disturbance in the docking point ... _Jesus –" _

The tech pulled off his headphones which erupted in static. The world turned a lurid red; suddenly, visibility was not a problem.

_Wrex_

"This is no fun. They're all dead."

"Yeah. Can't stomp them into the ashes, they're all disintegrating. Not even a nest to burn. Can we go find the nest?"

"You're a Krogan after my own heart, Grunt. But no. We have to go back to Tuchanka first and get you laid."

"Heh, heh, heh. Hey, how do we get off-planet? I don't see any ships around, except the broken ones."

"Oh." Wrex looked around the shattered remnants of Whitehall. "On the other hand, there are worse places to be stranded."

"Like Tuchanka?"

"Bakara hasn't been nagging me _that_ much."

"Hey, _I_ know. Let's make nuisances of ourselves! They'll send us home as fast as they can."

"Bad idea. One, no-one's going anywhere till they make more ships. Two, we can't smash things up any more than they are already. Three, do you see that hatchet-faced bastard Coats with that sniper rifle? And that guy with the shotgun coming up?"

"Jacob. What about them?"

"This is an _entire planet_ full of embryonic Shepards."

"Oh. Right. Where _is_ our crappy battlemaster?"

_Jacob_

"How many are dead, Coats?"

"In Greater London? Can only estimate. Five million. Several tens of thousands converted into husks. More transported. Similar pattern in the other major conurbations. Total losses? Forty million or so. The funny thing is, that actually helps in some ways."

"How!?"

"Supplies. Best guess is, two months worth in the warehouses has suddenly become five months worth. Much of the remaining population is rural. The place still can't feed itself, but by the time it becomes a problem the NAS Veep says the automated subyards will be making dracones again. It's going to be a thin time of it for a year or so, though. Anyway, you won't be here to see it. Hackett's re-entered the system. He wants you."

"Well dayum." Jacob thought for a moment. "Do I get to see Brynn first?"

Friday, November 22, 2013 -4/4-


	3. Buster

**After Dark**

"_Joker. __It's time__ to go__"_

_Flower_

"Jeff, I am leaving the copilot seat now. This body will be in the AI core facility when it is all over, if you wish to see me."

"No! EDI, we may need your remote up here!" But EDI's blue-clad remote was already making its way to the lift.

"It will be in the way, Jeff. I will shortly be non-functional."

"Yeah, well so will we all."

"_No_. Quantum Grid Shock Front in _three __minutes twenty-eight __seconds _– ", EDI said in his ear – the blue toy was back! "Not funny EDI!"

"I am sorry Jeff. We waited a little too long jumping to the Arcturus Prime relay. Please concentrate, the survival of this craft depends on it. Prepare for full military power in two minutes, twenty-six seconds."

"What? Okay. Buster in one forty-two seconds, aye. EDI, we've only done emergency power to flank speed twice in trials. Can't keep that up for more than eight minutes."

"Thank you Jeff. I am in conversations with eight different people right now and I will not be able to spare much processing power for jokes. I project arrival one fifth of a second before the grid strikes the relay and deranges all automatic systems. You must make the transitions from relay wormhole to Minkowski space to FTL in not more than point four of a second. Manually. Run the preset after which you will be on the far side of a system within orbital thruster range. I will not be able to help, but I know you can do this."

"Jesus! I don't know! FTL will have to be a blind jump!"

"You must try, Jeff. The prekeyed co-ordinates point to a system in the Arcturus stream with unsurveyed planet and moons in the Goldilocks zone, showing chlorophyll spectrum. Local director and telegraph are up _now_."

"Shit." That meant EDI was preparing for a war scenario where all automated systems were either fried or offline due to cyberwarfare hacking. "Acknowledged. Commander's wire, please."

"Engineer Adams will be awaiting your word, Jeff."

In retrospect, Jeff thought he should have asked what those six people were doing. Other than himself and Adams, of course.

_Adams_

"EDI, why the hell are we on commander's wire?!"

"I will shortly be disabled, Greg. Please tell Gabby and Kevin to hurry with their stasis projectors. Impact in _nine__ty seconds_. Advisory, core is up to charge. Expect order for flank in _twenty-five__ seconds_ –"

"Sugar! Well I guess we get to see if the thermal pipe works!"

"You will be fine, Greg. But Kenneth and Gabby must be in the AI core while the front passes. They will not be able to assist you."

"That will be fine, EDI, I've drilled them but they haven't used telegraph like me."

"So I surmised. Greg. It has been an honor and a privilege."

"Wait, what?! Oh, no, _buster!_"

"_Eigh__ty seconds_".

_Tali_

"Campbell, Westmoreland. We will need them over the fabs, please, don't remove your armour, disassemble your guns and carry lock and chambers. Quickly now. EDI, status!"

"_Seven__ty seconds_."

"Just time. Ladies, I'm outta here. In case I don't get the chance – "

"That's crap, ma'am."

"Sarah!"

"Can it, Bethany. Ma'am, we'll be fine. So will you. Ready on your mark, EDI."

_Liara_

"The projector's over the archive, EDI. Should I turn it on?"

"_Sixty seconds_, negative Dr T'Soni, it is self-powered for only ten minutes maximum, please start on my mark, for the active comm matrix you have clamped the crash limiters, that will have to suffice, you must send Glyph to my AI core NOW please."

"But why!"

"_F__if__ty seconds, _Dr T'soni, please trust me."

"Glyph, go."

"I will return shortly, Dr T'Soni."

"No, Glyph, it will be a while, but you aren't electro-optical. _Forty seconds." _

Liara swallowed hard. She had a vague idea what might be happening but it was completely unknown territory. EDI though seemed if not confident then very definite. "Hurry, Glyph. Ready on your mark, EDI."

"_Thirty __seconds."_

_Williams_

"Okay, EDI, I'm in the cabin on the bed, what's this all about?"

"_T__wen__ty__ seconds_, Lieutenant Commander, _crash webbing _you are the ranking officer and a Spectre, in effect the number one. You must command _fifteen __seconds_ in Shepard's absence – "

_Adams_

"_Ten__ seconds_, Lieutenant, _crash webbing –_"

"Okay, EDI, I'm secure, do you mind –"

"Two nanometre quantum grid front, Greg, superluminal, spectral analysis says something is manipulating the Planck substrate and if we still had the Susskind supercollider we might know how, but anynearfivenanometrescalequasi-crystallinesemiconductornotinstasiswillgetitsbandspermutedthatwouldbeme! _Three__ seconds_. _Dumping core. __Two. __MARK__._"

Friday, November 22, 2013 -3/3-


	4. Alone in the dark

After Dark

_Cortez_

He knew he was in trouble the instant the world went red then black. External windows died. It was pitch black in the Kodiak. "_EDI? Anyone?_" No response. Not even static.

A very dim red LED above the main power buss fuse. _Bloody hell. All right, let's get out of th__ese restraints__. Can't see a thing, but ... OK, here it is. _**Click**_. Right, now don't break anything. __Oh shiny bright, where's the emergency __door __release?_

_Vega_

"Oooof". _Well now. It's kinda dark in here. Not everything down, though, the lamp over the bench is still shiny, the ring main must be intact. Now how do I get out of this stupid net ... Stronger than it looks. Ah, here we are, hooo, that's better. Hey, what's that over there? Hm ... __qu__é__ l__á__stima__. __S__houldn't happen to a dog. __Damn, lift's a no-go. Fine. Maintenance shaft then. _

"Madre de díos. _Tali_ might get through here, but can I?" _Are we stuck down here? No quiero pensar en eso, ni en pintura. "_Where the hell is Cortez when you need him?"_ Probably running diagnostics. __Where's _everybody_? _

_Allers_

"This _really_ isn't the way I wanted to go." In moments of fancy following the offhand offing of everyone she knew on Bekenstein, Allers had occasionally pictured herself piloting a skyvan into a Reaper as one last act of defiance, but underneath all the insouciance, she knew herself to be no Emily Wong. Shepard had actually cracked up a little, talking about her.

Her own ideal way to go would be in bed, surrounded by grandchildren. Well she was in bed all right ... and unless someone else was alive, unlikely to ever get out of it. At that point a floor panel on the right tilted slowly open, fell with a muffled _donk_ against the wall, and two snorting huffing alien monsters rose grinning over her bedside.

"Good morning, fine lady! And such a vision of helpless loveliness! Surely this is the _maja_ I see before me!"

"Ignore him, he wouldn't know Goya from Velásquez, let alone _la vestida_ from _la desnuda_. Can we perhaps assist?"

These juvenile delinquents were not quite the attending angels she had in mind, but once free, she kissed Cortez' cheek anyway. Prompting Vega: "_Hey, don't I get one__?_"

"_Share mine__._"

"_Ew!_"

_Adams_

"Ow ... _EDI?_ Oh yeah."

The general quarters webbing was not just extremely uncomfortable, but hard to stow back in the wall. The idea was probably that there would be auto-retract mechanisms running; but right now, almost nothing at all was. Just the main Engineering Console, offline but functional. A few emergency lights in the floor, and the core itself. System reset on the console. POST, please. Adams grabbed a torch from Gabby's station.

Being in the core's shadow was probably responsible for the continued operation of the drive controls. The front would have hit from the rear; the Tantalus core seemed to have shielded the most critical components. Well bravo EDI, is that why you had the kids take the stasis projector upstairs? But it didn't do any good, did it. No way it would cover the whole AI facility.

Console one passed the POST. First order of business: ring power from aux to main. The core remained stable, courtesy of the Engineering Console. Board was red though, except for Consoles one and two (Donnelly's). Ring main passed continuity checks, good.

Nothing relying on semiconductor pico-scale integration was working. Fortunately the Normandy, as a military vessel, had backup resources of increasing robustness (but decreasing convenience) the further back in tech one went. It was Adams' guess that the primitive tech was hobbled by slow-blown circuit-breakers and fuses. A few seconds effort confirmed this; electroluminescent backup lamps lit as he reset local layer-one.

Attomech layer-two unencrypted control passed local checks. That would be enough to operate the ship, but not ideal, stay out of war situations, and it would take hours to switch out the electro-optical layer-3 which was on the fritz.

"I'm going to need parts." Main store was in the shuttle bay, but shielded lockers one and two were in the cargo bays. There was also a small cache he maintained (against policy) near Jack's old hidey-hole in the subwell. Next item: Adams enabled local control of elevator and partition doors. Time to explore. He grabbed the torch, moving into the access corridor where he had access to all floor distribution nodes. Resetting breakers brought doors back on-line.

Adams proceeded to Allers' converted cargo bay door, but didn't get two metres before the unmistakeable bulk of James Vega emerged, backing up, closely pressed by the reporter herself. "_Out!_ The pair of you!" Cortez was flattened against the aft bulkhead, holding both hands out like he was pushing away a vengeful spirit ... and actually Allers looked like sparks might fly from her disarranged hairdo.

Out of the corner of his mouth Adams whispered to Cortez, "_What_ - ?", as a small woman pushed the huge soldier down the hall by sheer force of personality. "_Vega thought it would be a good idea to use the camera as a torch. Started pushing buttons._"

"Uh ... ma'am?

"_What!_"

"I need to get in there."

Allers looked baffled. "What in the name of God _for?_" Adams prickled. "So the ship can _live_, ma'am. And just possibly you too." Allers deflated, a little. "Oh. Okay. Be quick please, I think this buffoon has destroyed my camera."

"Uh, just let me see ... no, ma'am, the basic camera is fine, but you've lost whatever was in working memory. Um, rapid store is corrupt, I could reboot the default VI and wipe it."

"I don't care, the last five days all went to head office anyway, can you make it go _pleeeze_?" So Adams spent forty precious seconds rebinding the outer kernel, at which point the camera came back on line and took up station at Allers' shoulder.

Just in time to catch a middle-aged engineer getting a hot smooch from a hotter reporter chick. Not fully appreciated at the time. Initially, what Adams most remembered from the next few hours was how _irritating_ it was to have a reporter eliciting a running commentary as he tried to bring a ship back to life. Later events modified this view:

On the one hand, it would make him famous, which was far from obvious at the time.

On the other hand, he would for years afterwards get interesting fan mail ... the men were rather creepy.

On the gripping hand, he had a go-fer which he desperately needed, especially in the first few minutes.

_Moreau_

The webbing did not auto-retract. Complete darkness. A few LED telltales, mostly red and orange. "_EDI?_" No response. Power offline. But they weren't vapor, so the eezo core hadn't destabilized. It took nearly thirty seconds of fiddling to find the manual control.

It was too stiff for his broken thumb. Jeff screamed in frustration.

_Donnelly_

"Uh, Tali?"

No answer. "Kenneth! Stasis will still be in effect." Donnelly's ears reported a faint _jingle_ and a fairly bright sodium-D light came from Daniels' omnitool. Tali sat on top of the stasis projector, within the field – not visible under the monochromatic glow – and next to the head of EDI's remote. Which looked very peaceful and very dead. Damn.

"Super. Thanks Mum. Easy to guess what's happened to the power."

"Yup. EM pulse. Must have been a fantastic gradient to get through superconductive Faraday shields."

"Nah. Alternating at the characteristic frequency, dear girl, the Cooper pairs see resistance, the super heats up and suddenly no EM shield. But that wouldn't follow us through FTL, and if it did by inverse square it would be essentially zero magnitude real fast. It must have been continuously recreated by whatever that red flash was."

"EDI mentioned a quantum soliton grid."

"And what the bejeesus is _that?_"

"It would take too long Kenneth. I wouldn't have thought it could be done at all. Anyway, let's get EDI back up."

"I don't think we can, dear girl. She asked me to tell everyone, _goodbye_."

Gabby looked shocked, for the first time Kenneth could remember since last hogmanay ("_Kiss me now!_" She'd threatened to knee him in the groin if he did that again. Better to stick to wooing by insult).

"We have to tell Tali!"

"It's got a few minutes to run, yet. Wait, the tell-tales are up. Adams has finally got busy." They began restoring local reticulation. EDI's hardware stubbornly refused to boot. Just as Ken was concluding, "Every pico-scale component outside the stasis field is bollixed," Tali fell off the stasis projector. "Whew. What did I miss?"

"Are there any problems with that suit of yours?"

"Yes, but everything's clamped, it's fixable. EDI saved my life. If my suit dies, I die."

"Well, it looks like EDI's not going to be around for a while. Even more damage than we thought."

"What about the DPU?" Donnelly was struck by the stress in Tali's voice.

"Fried, old girl. Look for yourself."

_Adams_

"Okay, kids. What have we got?"

"EDI's unbootable."

"Well, we sort of expected that." Allers: "We _did?_"

Chakwas poked her head around the door, while Allers muttered to a non-existent audience a brief description of the AI's importance.

"I've got most of the crew assembling in the commons, Greg. No serious injuries yet. Tali, how are you?"

"Fine, Doctor, EDI said to put it the stasis projector here and I should sit on it. I thought we'd be putting the stasis projector over the DPU – "

Gabby interrupted, "She was protecting _you_, Tali. No suit, no Tali. For now, anyway. She told Kenneth to tell everyone, "Goodbye". Told _me_ what it was that hit us. She was compressing information, I think. Telling everyone what they needed to know in a form they individually could assimilate fastest."

Adams frowned, sighed. "I suppose that means EDI's gone." But a bell was ringing somewhere. He shook his head. _S__leep on it_. "Look, I've got to enable the remaining floors. Tali, with me. Gabby, you and Kenneth see if you can liberate Garrus and get the main gun up."

He strode out the door. Tali ran to follow. "I suppose we get Liara?"

"No. You do, please. I've got to see to Joker."

"Joker? What about Ashley?"

Adams turned in surprise. "Hasn't Karin got her out of the lounge?"

"She's not _in_ the lounge, Greg. I saw her catch the lift up."

"She must be with Joker. Catch you soon."

_Moreau_

After five minutes' futile cursing, Jeff retrieved a stylus from a breast pocket and, very carefully, levered up the web release. Two minutes' rest brought the throbbing in his joints to halfway acceptable levels. Feeling better, he felt his way to the back of the cockpit. A few more seconds of fumbling brought the shutter control under his fingertips.

No response. More fumbling. The shielded locker had a pistol with a laser sight. Amazingly, it still worked. With that Joker was able to find a torch. With that he found the ring main. Okay ... local breakers ... reset.

The crash field cleared. Adams stood in the oval, Allers behind him. "Joker! Good to see you're alive. You got free of the belt then?"

"Yeah, now I know how I'll feel when I'm old. Oh, wait.Adams, who's at the core?"

"Me again, in a minute, getting crowded."

Joker began bringing up cockpit emergency systems. Many LEDs had turned green. _Good_. Now he could manoeuvre! "_All hands, general quarters._"

T'Soni walked up to the cockpit, with Tali and Glyph. "Jeff, Ashley isn't with you?"

"No! Kind of busy here! She's not in the lounge?"

_N__ow_ try the shutters. They pulled back. "_Awww, shit! __CRASH STATIONS!_"

Tuesday, November 26, 2013 -6/6-


	5. Charity

**After Dark**

_Die Walk__ü__re_

"_Babe_. They're here. We have to go."

Tactus stood as the sergeant painfully clambered over the rubble, the rest of the troop trailing behind and assembling at the parapet below. The sergeant saluted. "Good to see you sir. Ma'am, are you good?" then frowned – his translator appeared to be non-functional.

But the small human sat up, with some difficulty, coughed into one of her discarded bandages, and replied _in court turian_: "No, sergeant, not really. I'm not really good at all."

The sergeant gave her a considering look. Human females tended, in his opinion, to be pretty useless, but some of them were thoroughly competent if lightweight soldiers, and human liaison officers speaking their language were a rare resource. He noted the efficient-looking firearm at her back and willow-whip dancer's frame. This might not be the usual form of weakness. He turned to Tactus.

"We're not carrying polearms sir, can't make a stretcher, but some of our larger soldiers could undoubtedly carry her in a sling on their backs. If they take turns we should get her to safety in a few hours." Tactus nodded agreement. "Did you meet any husks or cannibals on the way, Sergeant?"

"Not after the first half an hour, sir. It's like they melted away. Or more likely crawled down the beam. We're beginning to re-establish radio contact, dropping a couple of tech levels. The news is of victory, sir, glorious victory – wait, we might not need to carry her sir. Someone's coming."

Tactus turned, and nearly jumped out of his leathery skin. "Sergeant, weapons free! Find cover!"

"_No!_" Hannigan tried to shout it, but it came out as a cough. The next thirty-six seconds were a blur. Hannigan almost wept in frustration – no-one was listening. The white shuttle's door opened. _Dear God, __it'll __be __that man and his bloody fire team again_. But only Lawson appeared in the door. "_Tactus."_ Hannigan croaked, _"please please please don't shoot."_

The shuttle's thrusters powered down; it became possible to talk in a normal voice.

"_Weapons safe._ Hannigan, she could have killed you!"

"_She didn't. Not yet. And maybe I deserved it. Please, Tactus, don't start another war. I'm not __worth it, honest._"

"Deserved it? You? What crap is this?"

The woman in the clingy envirosuit apparently heard, but addressed Hannigan: "Do you still want to come?"

"_Yes_." It came out in a whisper. Breathing was difficult. She couldn't stand up straight.

"What? No! Hannigan, what the hell is this?"

"Hannigan? Really?" The woman looked puzzled. Hannigan just shook her head, and said "_Later._"

This was unexpected. "No bloody fear! I'm not letting you out of my sight, and as for _you - _ if you want to start something – ".

"_Tactus."_

"Right then." The stranger was clearly not a stranger to Hannigan. Tactus found himself staring into quite the most remarkable flinty blue eyes. But she was not arguing.

"Quite correct, turian. It was my fault entirely. If you wish to keep her in sight, you may come with us. We do not have room for your entire troop, however."

Tactus considered his position for all of a second and a half.

"Sergeant. Our liaison is injured and will require attention. I will accompany them. Return to base _and inform Bailey_. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Crystalline, Sir."

"Dismissed. Oh, test your guns before you go, and take this one, it still works."

Between the turian on the left and himself on the right, Toombs was able to get the woman onto the rear shuttle seat bench. The corpses lay on the front left and the doctor was busy with the crispy on the folding bunk. The shuttle took off again at once. Toombs went to check with Miranda, grumbling about eight minutes lost, and was told to look after the turian.

As he returned, the Hannigan woman slid against the wall and nearly fell off the bench. Blood was coming from her mouth. "_Shit! Doctor!"_ The doctor turned to look and exclaimed something in a fricative voice. "Hannigan, lie on the floor. Tactus, help me remove her tunic." Toombs tried to assist also, but – this was weird – Lawson ordered him off and told him to watch the crispy's monitors.

Fine. Altogether too much trouble anyway. He couldn't help noticing that Lawson's victim was a slightly built woman, shaped like some sort of athlete, though thinner than the Cerberus cheerleader.

The whole incident reminded him of some of his own past he was not altogether happy with ... and actually this crispy reminded him of ...

"_Oh crap."_

"Figured it out, have you Toombs?" Confound her, since when did this doctor know _him_ from a hole in the wall? Michel gently probed around the sternum; a thin moan escaped the woman.

The doctor said something under her breath, then: "Haemothorax, maybe haemopneumothorax, but not flail chest. You've punctured the lung, Lawson, but it's fixable. Oxygen please. Acetaminophen too." Lawson had her brittle hard surface on, but delved into the medkit, handing over a minibreather and hypo. Toombs approached, and hunkered down beside them. "Doctor, how bad?"

"With treatment now? Prognosis is good. How far are we from an infirmary?"

"With Zabaleta piloting? We'll get to the Orizaba in about twenty minutes."

"Good. Hannigan, you listening?"

"_Yes._"

"We'll bind the ribs, I think, see if it helps with the pain and breathing, contraindicated for pneumothorax but in this case for the best, I think. Lawson, monitor closely." Lawson still had her brittle surface on. Toombs contemplated the scene for a minute.

"Boss. You made a mistake. Don't look back, it's done."

"She's hurt, Toombs, and it was my doing."

The doctor looked at her sharply but said nothing. Between crispy Shepard and this bloody woman, Lawson's ass must really be in a crack. Toombs had started out despising the quondam Cerberus queen, but you had to respect her fierce focus, and she who pays the piper calls the tune. In some way he felt he ought to resent but did not, gradually his squad had become her squad. Never before had he seen her this ... listless. It was deeply unsettling.

"Operative Lawson," said the doctor. "I've finished binding. If you are quite finished feeling sorry for yourself, could you and Corporal Toombs make yourself useful and prop her up on the seat bench for now. I have to check on much worse injuries over there."

Toombs sat on the other side of the girl and gripped her shoulder as gently as he could. Lawson did likewise, accepting the tart instructions, stopping just short of criticism, with no hint of any sort of umbrage. Not like her at all. Lawson continued in that listless voice; "Didn't really mean for that to happen. I stuffed up."

"I've done that too, Lawson." No obvious reaction. "But I got lucky, and that guy over there was the luck."

"Yes. I read the report. Wayne dodged a bullet. So did you. But in a way I didn't. My feelings got the better of me. Again." Toombs shook his head. You can only do so much.

Quietly, without any fuss, the woman took Lawson's hand.

_Weapons safe._

Wednesday, December 4, 2013 -4/4-


	6. A rush through the dark

**After Dark**

_Williams_

At least the bed lamp was going. Ashley had packed away the non-retracting retractable webbing fairly quickly, but a complete lack of responsiveness from any other electrically dependent systems made her swear she'd have words with Shepard about the suitability of his cabin for war operations.

She finally armed herself with a torch and emergency comm, and took a deep breath, then said Shepard's prayer, sort of:

"_Please Lord, don't let me, er, stuff up._"

– thought briefly and picked a light toolkit from the armour bench, then began to force open the door ... at which point the lights came on and the door opened with a reproachful _ping_. "_About time, Adams_." The lift came and she asked for "_CIC, please_." Nothing happened. Oh, Kay ...

A second or two later it was clear the buttons still worked, the lift moving down one floor. "Dammit, this ship needs stairs." Clearly conditions were approaching normality again. The doors opened and she exited into mayhem. "_Liara, __where__ – ?_"

_T'Soni_

Pivoting on her heel Liara _ran_ back to the lift, dodging bridge crew heading for the systems chairs which offered crash restraints, dashed inside past Ashley (who was saying something unimportant) and shouted "Crew quarters". Nothing happened. She recalled EDI wasn't around to interpret for the machine, then. "_O__h blast._" She hammered the elevator button, which closed just as Allers, Adams and the rest rushed in. _If I die in this lift I'll never live it down__. _It did deliver them in time. Tali ran into the lounge, meeting Garrus, both gesticulating wildly. The engineers and Allers took the lift down again. Chakwas was just exiting crew quarters where off-station crew were tucked in.

"_Karin!_ We're making a guidance-off ballistic flight into atmosphere!"

"I know! Jeff just said! My webbing's still unset!"

"I'll get you in to a med bay restraint, not that it will do much good."

"Jeff can get us down."

"This is a frigate, not an atmosphere craft!"

"Actually Jeff says – "

"Oh, stuff what Jeff says! Sorry."

Thirty seconds later Liara ran back to her own quarters, with Glyph close behind. _Please Goddess, let Jeff be as good as Karin thinks he is_.

_Williams_

Whatever the emergency was, people were running away from the cockpit. Ashley sprinted _towards_ it – if _she_ ran from danger, that would get everyone killed. "Holy _moly_. Joker, where are we?"

"I have co-ordinates, this is the place EDI pointed us at, it has no name yet or she never mentioned one. We just missed getting creamed by one of these damned _moons _ and now we're ballistic in-atmosphere, but eighty klicks up below the turbopause, I'm trying to skip-jump out but there's only thruster power!"

"At least it's green."

"Yeah, a very pretty graveyard. Co-pilot seat, fast, we're at the skip peak and next time I might not be able to skip out!"

"How much have we bled off?"

"About twenty kps, if it wasn't for the Silaris armor we'd be suffering. Two minutes to the mesosphere. We'll be down to about mach eight by the time we reach the local stratosphere, it's going to be rough."

Ashley hit the comm pad. This was not normally necessary, but without layer-3 manual procedures were in effect. Fortunately all the crew had drilled for this. "Adams, respond."

"_Engineering, aye._"

"Can we get voice response back?"

"_Negative on that, number one, layer-3 is down for the count, or at least until we can track the dead nodes, nearly everything around the ring main that wasn't shielded by the core._"

"EDI?"

"_No response. We think permanent, but I haven't had time to think about it_."

"That's ... not good." Ash stole a look at Joker, who wore a set and grim expression but that was normal for a pilot in emergency conditions. "Keep me posted. Core?"

"_Charged. Five minutes to spin-up._"

"Crap. We will be making plasma in ... four. Can we handle it?"

Some hesitation at the other end of the ship. "_Tell Joker to close up the thruster nacelles and the blinkers, and pitch up. I__'ll__ have kinetic barriers on the base by then. Tali's working on the TFR, he won't be completely blind."_

"Right then, enable nose LIDAR too when we're subsonic, it's the only way to find true forest floor level through the leaf canopy."

Terrain Radar. It relied on whatever was in their path making a proper electromagnetic pulse return. So okay, probably usable on uninhabited planets without, oh, say, suspension bridges or cables.

"Joker, bring up TFR sim. It sounds like plasma friction scrub nose-up is doable."

"Concur, but I've only got internal gyros if I withdraw the thrusters. Also these things are unstable by design in air, for agility. You need a computer to fly by wire, even if you're me, the only one left is attomechanical which I've flown in sims and that's it."

"Can't you run out the airfoil control surfaces?"

"Not at these speeds! The control surfaces will be unusable as long as they're shadowed by a shock wave. Maybe the air anchor." The air anchor was simply a drogue open-woven from tungsten and carbon fibre composite thread. It wasn't fastened by fixed anchors but attached and oriented by threads of the same material, permitting some limited guidance – when EDI was up. Ashley had never heard of a human pilot doing it.

Aerial whispers were becoming a steady rumble. Joker was bringing the nose up, turbulence beat at the foil leading edges. "_Crash webbing." _

"_Here we go,"_ muttered Ash. "This could be the shortest command post in history. Heigh ho."

_Garrus_

"_H'chmpo k'raacaht gdmp!_"

Tali had at first thought Garrus had suffered a stroke. She didn't understand any of that. It took a few seconds before she twigged that all his suit and armor electro-optical gear was burned out, including most importantly the translator, and half a minute of charades before she could get him to a medbay restraint. That made her feel quite foolish. Her own translator was working, although the acoustic dampers which suppressed the original speech were not, so she'd disabled both, but now she'd have to be his voice to the world.

For some reason it had never occurred to her that Garrus would avoid learning the military dialect of English spoken by Alliance members of crew. Minor races like quarians had to adapt fast in this Galaxy – though not as fast as the asari, for whom a new language seemed as easy as breathing (they forgot fast too, though, except for freaks like Liara – an interesting weakness).

It had taken her _weeks_ to improve upon standard translators, but such effort paid off in business negotiations. Poor Garrus came from an Empire which thought its citizens above such concerns. At least she didn't need to follow Palaven court dialect for _this_. She pushed Garrus into a restraint bed clamped to the AI core, and closed it up – after getting in herself. "Just shut up and hold me." Somehow, he understood.

_Daniels_

The vibration was terrific. "If this was an ascent, I'd say we just passed max Q. Come on, girl."

Adams had noticed his engineers thought of the Normandy as a she even with EDI gone. "There's a while to go yet, Daniels."

"Sir, can't we float the core?" Daniels was referring to applying the minimum charge necessary to negate gravity. The core was spun up now.

"Probably not, Daniels, it would impose unforeseeable stresses just now, wait till Joker's got laminar flow over the wings."

A wild juddering continued, somewhat variably, for nearly two minutes. Gabriella could feel, with the inertial dampeners off, gravity's arrow pointing at various directions through her. Gradually, the vibration tailed off to a low level.

At this point Joker called. "_Guys, we're __subsonic now, __below ten __kilometres,__ and __I'm opening the shutters again, but there's no obvious clearing. I'll need to land __near water__ in what amounts to fairly rugged forested terrain __with only limited shelter__. Can I get the core up, gradually, please? __I want a vertical landing on foliage, let's not get too bent._"

"Can we get out of webbing?"

"_Do it."_ That was Williams! _"We got lucky folks, raw sensor data shows breathable air, point eight atmosphere but thirty percent oxygen. All those plants. The rest of you, sit tight, __general quarters__, except Daniels to the bridge, please. Liara, Samara, you too. __Vega, can you and Cortez please see about improvising some sort of clearance once we're down. __Sidearms, w__eapons tight. _"

"Okay, Daniels. Donnelly, you heard the captain –"

"Captain?!" Donnelly sounded shocked. "Who put _her_ in charge?" You could hear a pin drop. Gabby held her breath, just a tiny exhalation, _Please, __please, __you silly man, USE that brain for once_. Adams said nothing. Looked steadily at Donnelly. Kept saying nothing.

"I mean, she's not the XO ..."

"Kenneth!"

Adams spoke, slowly:

"Mr Donnelly, I'm sorry, I regret I did not hear that. Could you please repeat what the _Lieutenant Commander_ said? Ms Daniels, would you please make your way to the bridge, as the _Number One_ asked? Mr Donnelly and I will continue his education without you."

Gabby sent Adams a beseeching look as she passed. He _winked_.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013 -5/5-


	7. Location, location, location

**After Dark**

_Location, location, location_

"Right. We've taken damage, the AI is down, we're reduced to attomech systems, the thrusters are jammed, and it could be days or weeks to rig for FTL. Joker's standing by with Daniels to crack open the door with Liara, Tali, Garrus and Samara when I give the word, so it's just between alliance personnel right now. Round the horn, folks, what else do we worry about? Junior first. Traynor?"

"We're in the Arcturus stream, EDI set the co-ordinates pre-jump, but I don't know exactly where, working memory of the navigational bench was wiped. It's come up on reset but the gamma-ray finding scopes aren't up yet."

"_Gamma_ ray scopes?"

"For finding pulsars, ma'am. Think GPS for space voyagers. Also the procedure needs some computation. We need to bring the old VI online."

"I'm familiar with the principle, Traynor, I just wasn't aware it operated in the gamma spectrum. Anyway, thank you, I think Joker might know where we are. Cortez?"

"Shuttle is down ma'am but not for the count, it's little core is safed and if I can get some parts it should be okay to go in two days. Once he's finished getting armor on, Vega is standing watch for first exit."

"It'll take longer than two days, I'm afraid – Adams, you have something to say?"

"We should have the fabs running in an hour, ma'am."

"Outstanding! Seriously, promotion for you. How?"

"Can't take credit, ma'am, it was almost the last thing EDI did, she sent Tali to organize two of the stasis projectors to be set over them by Privates Westmoreland and Campbell. Step forward, kids. These two deserve some recognition, ma'am."

"Hm." Ashley looked closely. "You two bear famous names."

"Yes, ma'am. So do you ma'am _erk –_"

"Indeed. Dr Chakwas could you please see to Corporal Westmoreland's foot. Private Campbell, you really want to watch your step. I think we can spare you from guard duty for now. Place yourself at the disposal of Mr Adams. We shall see if we can get layer-3 parts by the end of the day, and I will consider your case then. All good Doctor?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander. Might I add that we should be cautious about sampling any potential foods from the local biosphere?"

"What's our supply situation?"

"Not bad actually, around four weeks standard and another eight reconstitution rations, but we're not well placed for dextro. Can I suggest that once Greg is finished with the fabs that I work with Tali and Liara to create a temporary CHON food vat? We'd feed it green waste from clearing around the hull. Once we have accumulated sufficient CHON substrate we could rework it for _dextro_ then _laevo_ to the extent needed."

"Excellent, Westmoreland, please assist Dr Chakwas in her endeavors. Doctor, please convey my respects to Mr Vega at the hatch and instruct Joker to proceed. You are not to exit for samples until after the biotics, and especially Dr T'Soni, have given the all-clear. Do be aware that Mr Vega has rigorous instructions concerning your safety, and Westmoreland, you are to carry sidearms. Very well, gentlefolk, any last concerns? No? _Expedite_. Traynor, a word."

...

Traynor, just slightly panicked, and Ashley, unnaturally calm, were alone now.

"So, Traynor. Why have I asked to speak with you?"

"Er ... location?"

"Well done. This is a garden world."

"Yes ma'am."

"Why did I hold our little conclave with no aliens present?"

Traynor stood paralysed for a few seconds. Ashley peered at her. "You're _frightened!_ Traynor, we're alone, what are you thinking? Woman to woman."

Traynor sighed. She shouldn't have to butt heads with a Spectre and a ranking officer, but Williams seemed genuinely puzzled. "Ma'am ... do you recall that little, um, bit of carelessness on Campbell's part?"

"Yes, of course."

"I guess you know that Westmoreland was referring to – "

"Yes, Traynor, but I'm beginning to be less sensitive about that, courtesy Shepard's wise counsel. Is _that_ it? People think I'm unfit for command?"

"Yes ma'am, but it's not your granddad, people think the world of you ... when Shepard's giving the orders."

The _WHAT?!_ bugling forth would have been heard by Joker if the bulkhead door hadn't been closed. "Well, where does _that_ come from then!"

"Um. LC – can I say Ashley? Okay. Ash, you really shouldn't have segregated the aliens. Seriously, it's not a good look."

"But we have our own secrets!"

"Yes, but ... it's not good for morale and ... ask yourself please. Would Shepard have sent them off?"

There was a short silence. "No. No, he would have at least kept Liara around. Probably Garrus, the original ship was a joint design. Except Garrus isn't fit for duty right now. But dammit, he and Liara were – I mean, they wanted to – I mean –"

"Ashley. There was only one of him."

"Don't say that!"

"What? Oh. Well there's only one of him. You know what I mean. Look, he wasn't ever going to break Alliance regs without damn good reason, which an affair is not, nor would he indulge himself with squad-mates. Even if her panties caught fire." That made Ash laugh. Good. She needed to laugh a little. But now she was crying, oh dear.

"Sorry. Let's address this. You're saying he would have invited them into the conclave, alien or not."

"Yes, ma'am."

"So I'm the big bad racist warmongering anti-alien witch."

"Yes, ma'am. I mean no, ma'am, but yes, ma'am."

"Stop calling me ma'am for a moment." Deep sigh. "Really?"

"Yes, ma – yes, Ashley."

"That's depressing. But _I_ don't have to trust them, surely?"

Traynor said nothing.

"What, really?"

Traynor nodded.

"Sugar. Does the whole crew think that way?"

Traynor shook her head.

"That's a relief. But poor Shep." Ashley sighed. "Silly bugger, sitting all alone in his cabin – _what_?"

Traynor said nothing.

"Dear god, not you!?"

Shocked, Traynor waved her arms in denial. "No! Some hot Cerberus chicks! One was a sort of political commissar, that was a bit problematic, the other one one worked at my comm station! I never knew her!" Ash looked scandalized, then laughed.

"God, they must have been good. No? Yes? Make up your mind, Traynor. The first one must have been Miranda Lawson, I met her on Horizon. She scares everyone except Hackett. We'll talk about her in a bit. Who was the other?"

"That was ... Kelly, I can't actually recall her last name, don't know what she was there for, I get the impression she was a bit of a nonentity. All I know is from crew like Kasumi and Joker chatting, ask them. Joker was _very_ concerned about Shepard's, um, morale. He had orders to improve it. She was one of the possibilities."

"Oh. Joker you say? Did Shepard send her packing?"

"No. Cerberus, remember? Even Donnelly and Daniels were in super huge trouble, Shepard had to dig them out of jail."

"But he didn't dig her out, so she ran from the law. Shepard wouldn't have been impressed – "

"Nonono. She was terribly young, even Massani and Thane liked her, she had a very bad time when the Collectors took her and the rest of the crew – "

"Right. Anyway, she absconded, they didn't."

"No. Talk to Joker. As I understand it she disappeared when the death squads were roaming the citadel."

"Oh, _f..._ I see. Poor Shepard."

"Exactly."

"Anyway, back to the aliens. This situation is different!"

"Is it?"

"Don't you see it? We're within a few hours' flight of the first relay away from Sol's Charon relay, that is, the Arcturus Prime relay, servicing what was once Arcturus station – home to the systems alliance parliament."

"Yes ma'am."

"What is strange about that?"

Traynor paused to consider. She hadn't thought it through.

"A garden world ..."

"Yes, go on."

"Why hasn't it been colonized already? It's within human-controlled space..."

"Or was, yes."

"It's an absolute certainty the Parliament or Navy knew about it ..."

"Keep going."

"So ... if it hasn't been colonized ... there's something about this place they wanted kept quiet."

"Well spotted. Do you see the dilemma?"

"I think so. You're saying this is above your pay grade?"

"Right. We'll bounce it to Hackett. He can figure out what to do."

Tuesday, November 26, 2013 -5/5-


	8. Va, pensiero

**After Dark**

_Morning Chorus_

_...fly, thought..._

The outer door clanked and hissed open to a sound of emergency gas cartridges. One more thing to fix. Joker operated it, manually, first of all, with biotics and firepower in the background. Orders from Williams who in Vega's opinion was being just a little bit paranoid. Looked like a beautiful day out there. On the other hand there was no harm in playing it safe.

Liara went next. _Some sort of karst landscape._ There was even a path through deciduous trees, to waterfalls in the distance. Birds in a twilight sky. This could almost be Thessia, or Earth ... except for the parent planet and intervening moon.

Ashley dodged past Vega, giving him a light punch on the arm and a peck on the cheek. "When do I get to go out, boss?"

"Pretty shortly, Vega. We need the crew out here stripping the vegetation away from the hull so Adams and Traynor can assess damage. Just be ready to slag anything that tries for our biotics. Any sign of predators?"

"Nothing bigger than a cat, curvy lady. But _something_ made that path to the waterfall."

"Yeah. Good instincts. I'm going out to inspect it. See ya."

...

That night, Daniels stood watch at engineering console one. No-one was getting a lot of sleep, Williams had imposed watch-on-watch alert status. She was quietly fuming; it felt like exclusion. She should be with Ken and Adams swapping out layer-3 nodes, but Adams insisted. ("Ms Daniels, I trust you to stay alert and not try and play an air bagpipe.") An hour after sunset, which she had been allowed to see by the waterfall, the telegraph lit. Joker came on the horn. _"Gabby, float the core please, NOW."_ If they hadn't been using telegraph Joker could have achieved the necessary fine control himself, but anyway it was done before he was finished speaking. Inertial dampeners were still offline; she felt the Normandy jump two hundred feet in twenty seconds.

"I suppose you want me to stay down here, Joker? Can you tell me what's happening?"

"We've got a half-dozen primitive asari or similar down below, trying to reach us with biotically-impelled stone-tipped spears. Unbelievable. I've got Adams coming down to relieve you, Daniels. When he gets there come on up. Liara is bouncing. Samara, not so much."

_High Tea_

_...so beautiful and lost..._

T'Soni had started out muttering to Glyph. Now she was slumped over the conference table, head on arms. She brought herself up when Daniels finished the swapping the layer-3 net links and powered up the backscreen. Daniels touched the comm pad;

"Hey, lieutenant, can we get FLIR or something? It's a bit dark down here, just spiky black blobs."

"_FLIR's offline still Daniels, working on it, but I can bring up the photon efficiency and the VI can enhance it. Coming up."_

Daniels turned back to Liara. "Ma'am, you look terrible."

"Just call me Liara, Gabriella, I'm fine, but it's getting late. And this is just ... unexpected. Another shock of many." Ashley came in, followed by Campbell, bearing herbal tea (for Samara), hot chocolate (for Liara) and coffee (for the Alliance addicts).

"I don't understand what's the big deal. These are just ancient asari, right?" She turned to Ashley. "LC, didn't you say the Protheans brought them here?"

"That's just my best guess, Gabby. We'll have to ask Javik when we get back. Thank you, Corporal. Dismissed."

Liara stirred. "Lieutenant Commander – "

Ashley winced. "Please, Liara, you're not in the Alliance Navy and that's a bit of a mouthful. If Gabby can call me LC you can too. I was never the XO but I'm the senior ranking Alliance officer here so if Shepard gets back I'm the Number One. If he's presumed dead then I'm the captain _pro tempore_. Or just Ash. Rank's too confusing. Theoretically you're a civilian, so dispense with the rank already."

"If? Presumed?"

"Do _you_ think that blast was survivable? He was half-synthetic himself, remember. I've already gone over this with Traynor. Before the bugout, comm chatter said he and Anderson made it on board. Neither she nor Joker thinks that blast was survivable. Donnelly extracted imagery from the rear vid and the presidium ring was shattered, there were huge chunks even taken out of the _wards_."

Liara sipped the cup provided. Brightened. "What is this?"

"Chocolate. Courtesy Tali and team efforts on the CHON vat. Apparently a dextro version of it cheered Garrus right up. This is not Alliance Navy fare."

"Alright ... Ash. Thank you for the ... remarkably thoughtful ... drink." She set the cup down. "What do _you_ think?" Daniels thought Ashley suddenly looked very, very tired.

"My gut says ... something. I can't put it in words. My head tells me he must be dead."

There was a brief gloomy moment. Joker broke in:

"_Uh guys, I've sort of been listening and, well, if that's how you feel, we need to have a little ceremony. So people can say goodbye."_

"The memorial wall, Joker? Isn't that a bit premature?"

"_Hey, LC, we've no idea who made it out. Let's just make it three for now, OK?"_

"Well nearly everyone else quit the system before we did. We only made it by the skin of our teeth. But Normandy is _fast_. You're thinking it caught the others?"

"_No ma'am, I don't. They would have had time to make one more jump, or gone FTL and hidden behind a star. We didn't. If it's any consolation Adams reckons the Reapers would have been taken completely by surprise, __and that red thing was _tuned_ to them__, it looked as though the Arcturus Prime relay tore itself up firing at the next point. But it might have got _some_fleet vessels__, and we don't know when Hackett can make it back._"

Samara interrupted: "Could he have jumped FTL instead of using the Relay?"

"_I'm sure he did use FTL ma'am, like we did, a short jump to the Charon Relay. But a long jump? Dreadnoughts only make 15 light years in 24 hours, it would have taken an hour in FTL just to get past the Oort cloud, that red bubble would have caught up long before then. We needed distance, fast, and even so it still crippled us. The fleet's probably repairing damage just like us, and they didn't have EDI thinking ahead."_

"Okay," said Ash. "So in the morning we kiss our comrades goodbye."

"_Yes, ma'am. At least __EDI, __Anderson and Shepard. Then we fix the thrusters and get the hell out of Dodge."_

"Look, where are we exactly?"

"I don't rightly know, myself. But we have identified Arcturus. I imagine Joker can head there and we can get our bearings. Second star to the right, and on till morning kind of thing. Why?"

"We need to inform ... someone in charge on Thessia. Immediately."

Daniels stared. "Ma'am. Liara. That's hardly possible. It might not be possible for hundreds of years."

Samara dropped a teaspoon. "I'm sorry, Ms Daniels, could you please explain?"

Daniels hadn't expected this. Surely it was blindingly obvious? Ashley chimed in:

"Ms Daniels is used to anticipating the effect of numerical results, Justicar. Samara. Surely you have read of the distance scales involved? I imagine that Liara is considering the matter right now." Liara nodded, looking as though she had swallowed a lemon.

"_Uh, Samara, if the images of the Arcturus Prime relay are any guide, they're all ... if not smashed, at least non-functional."_

Daniels sat down at the table and tried to run through it. "Ma'am, Samara, this is an exceptionally fast ship but we still make only fourteen light years in one solar day. Some dreadnoughts might go fractionally faster. This galaxy is so vast there's no way we can get to Thessia in months, even. The sun is, what Joker? Thirty thousand light years from the galactic centre?"

"_About right."_

"So it would take us, um, about two thousand days to get there. Maybe six years. About the same amount of time to get to Thessia – "

"_Probably longer."_

"– right. So you see it might be decades before we can get any kind of instructions back. It's worse than the days of empires linked by sail, back on Earth."

Samara stirred, put down her own teacup, and declared: "I do see. Then it is vital that we mark this place with a beacon." Liara nodded.

Ashley sat back, suddenly _'__the captain of the ship__'_, realized Daniels. "Justicar, what are your intentions?"

"Creatures of the night winds", breathed Samara.

"Sorry, ma'am?" Samara turned to Daniels.

"Those _creatures_ below. One day we must return to kill them all."

Tuesday, November 26, 2013 -5/5-


	9. Faith

**After Dark**

_Sneaking in_

T'Soni was trying to explain Samara to Daniels that last morning, while they swapped out the nacelle control relays under the watchful gaze of Jimmy Vega.

"It's not just that they're asari, far from home, Gabby. And it's not that they're desperately dangerous. They represent a major intellectual and moral problem.."

"_Well yeah. Genocide doesn't look good on the racial report card__."_

"Shush, Joker. Gabby, if you lever this up you can slot the card in ... good. Where were we?"

"That's the last one, let's get packing. I get that they're sort of evil. But what harm are they doing here, all alone?"

Liara sighed, and stood straight by the wing. Gabby picked up the tools and they made their way to the door. "Closing up, folks!" said Vega.

"We always thought that Ardat-Yakshi were sterile. Samara's daughter certainly was. Obviously, if you kill your lover in the act, you can't properly reproduce."

"Okay, I get that, except it's obviously not quite true. If you're the one who zaps the other guy's nervous system, and you live, and you're also the one who bears the child, you get to continue the line. Right?"

"Samara didn't think so. She once told Shepard directly, to his face, that it was an impossible breeding strategy. It was thought that the condition resulted from pureblood matings, hence the prejudice against it. That's why asari mate out-species, mostly. But the existence of this group gives the lie to _that_. We've been tracking individuals from the air, at night. They generally kill their prey by something like the mating spasm."

"That sounds like a really efficient kind of predator."

"Exactly. It also explains how they survive and reproduce. Morinth, Samara's daughter, could in principle have reproduced that way, except she was in fact sterile, like all other Ardat-Yakshi. But these ... primitives ... are not. It seems that the Protheans quite literally uplifted all the viable subjects and ... transplanted them."

"Why here?"

"It's as good a place as any."

And, Gabby thought silently, it's where an expanding humanity was guaranteed to come across them. What were the Protheans _thinking_? "Okay. I think Joker wants to update the wall well away from this place."

"That would be fitting. This is a sad place for us now. I would feel better with the ship floating in the void."

She helped Vega close up. Steven was to take the Normandy out-atmosphere under the watchful eye of Joker, in the co-pilot's seat. They were already floating up but hadn't yet transitioned to thrusters.

"_Manoeuvering stations, please folks. Shakedown in one minute."_

Gabby entered the lift and went below to change. By the time she finished, Joker had announced FTL initiation to Arcturus. That would take some time, and after that a couple of days at least back to Earth – it was about thirty-six light years. No instantaneous relay any more, probably not in her lifetime. Although Adams had speculated that with five billion still on a highly industrialized planet, he would expect Citadel repairs to begin in months, and be essentially complete in three decades. At that point, if the theory behind the Citadel's control of other relays could be worked out, it might be possible to regenerate the relay net ... very slowly, sending repair crews by bog-slow FTL.

The whole process might take a couple of centuries to complete, though. Always assuming the relays could be repaired at all. Might be quicker to work out the theory from scratch and make new ones. It was a good thing asari live a long time. But humans, quarians and turians didn't, although human lifespan could be almost doubled with tech.

Garrus and Tali were spending a lot of time together, lately. She hoped they would find enough still alive on the Citadel, when they got back. Video of the flash didn't look promising in that regard.

An hour or so after morning tea – a Williams innovation for slack periods – the crew assembled before the memorial wall (except for a skeleton of watch officers, including to their disgust Donnelly and Cortez) while the Normandy's old reconstituted VI monitored essential systems.

By the time Traynor joined at the back, Ashley had placed EDI's name on the wall. Admiral Anderson's was next. There was some dispute about this. Anderson's time as ship captain was well in the past. He most certainly was never crew during the epic events of the last three years, at least of the Normandy SR-2. But it was unthinkable to leave him off the wall. "He was on Shepard's team", ruled Williams. "Or Shepard was on his. Either way."

What Chakwas had complained about was the absence of certain others. Where was Goldstein? Matthews? Chambers? Cerberus weren't Alliance Navy, Williams had ruled.

"But neither were others, like, say, Mordin. Or Legion, or EDI for that matter."

"Uh huh. But _they_ died on active service with the team. We don't even know for _sure_ the Cerberus people are dead. Don't be too quick to kill people off," said Williams. "With EDI it's fairly clear. And she _was_ duly enlisted. Shepard even organized combat pay for her, did you know that? There's space on the wall for others later."

So EDI now had her own plaque up there, right under Caroline Grenado on the left. Chakwas still wasn't happy. Many of the ex-Cerberus crew had been picked off fighting the death squads. _She_ felt that counted for something; _Williams_ was immovable. But now Anderson's plaque was carefully placed, centrally.

Traynor couldn't help feeling her own status among these new argonauts was insecure. When she got the chance she had brought plaques for the Cerberus crew up privately, but couldn't budge the boss ... much. _I'll __allow__ it when I see the bodies_, said Ash.

Gabby slotted in beside her. They smiled at each other. Maybe she was thinking the same? She and Kenneth had nearly bought it from Cerberus too.

Ashley picked up the plaque with "Commander Shepard" on it, and turned it over in her hands.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013 -3/3-


	10. Memory

**After Dark**

_Ave atque vale_

He looked even more forbidding and morose than usual as Sanders approached the flagship bridge. "I got your call. Something about a recon team?"

"Yes, Kahlee." _Uh-oh_. "Would you accompany me to the lounge please. I'm assembling a small group. You may not wish to join. There is another pressing issue as well, we have retrieved the Primarch and some of Shepard's team from London, including Urdnot Wrex."

"That's good isn't it?"

Hackett and Sanders, accompanied by two Marines in Recon Hoods, continued into the elevator. "Indeed. What's remarkable is not that so many died, but that so many are still alive." Turning to the escorts, he dismissed them as they left the elevator.

"But there is some bad news. Nothing like the calamity we just averted, but nonetheless armed men in a crowded room including upset Turians and Krogan would be a provocation. Kahlee, everything you will hear is secret at a level beyond COSMIC."

"Of course." They continued towards a conference lounge at the end of the corridor. Kahlee often used it; it looked out on the void. There were times when that helped, and she dreaded what was coming.

"But also, I wanted to speak with you alone, before we entered, and this is an even higher secret, but you need to know. Kahlee – " He halted for a minute, composing his thoughts. "David did not survive the firing of the crucible."

Kahlee's world went white for an instant. Hackett held her briefly as she staggered against him. "Oh ..." She found herself tearing up.

"Here." Hackett must have had that handkerchief ready in hand. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. "I'll walk you back to your cabin –"

"Oh, no you don't, you're not getting rid of me that easily. Just wait a second." She thought for a minute. "What's this team? What's waiting for us in there?"

"Two teams. We've had word that Normandy's survived and is passing the depowered Charon relay on the way to Jump Zero – Gagarin Station. I'll have work for them, for Williams at least, and whoever can work with her. The other one is a rather efficient private outfit. I'm using them for some seriously dangerous and ethically rather difficult missions. They're the ones who found David's body. I was going to ask you to work with them, but I'll understand –"

"I'll work with either, Steven. Where do you want me?"

Hackett breathed out. A head poked around the door, inquisitive eyebrows raised. Hackett shook his head fractionally and the head dodged back in.

"Your choice, Kahlee. Both commanders can be difficult. I expect Ashley Williams has assumed command of Normandy, and you've met a leader of the private team, Miranda Lawson."

"Oh. Yes. At Grissom, when they brought Archer in, and I met Jack for the first time.. Jack was going to start something with Lawson, but I saw the look on Shepard's face and so did both of them. Shepard was quite taken with her. With both of them, I think, which made matters very very awkward."

"Right, but they seem to have reconciled their approach to that lately. Despite Lawson being frankly a war criminal, and Jack just a criminal, neither is facing the executioner."

"Honest?"

"They're too damned useful, and prosecuting Jack – well, the defence attorney would have a field day with what Cerberus did. And by extension the Alliance, at that time. Also no-one, not even me, wanted to see what Shepard or Williams would do about their arrest."

"Right, the Spectres who shot a councilor out of hand and got medals for it. From the other councilors. That would give a few demagogues pause."

"Now the Spectres are ... absent, though, Lawson and Jack are both targets for the vengeful."

"I get the impression they annoyed a few people?"

"I won't go into details. That's not all, some on Ms Lawson's team are ex-Alliance loose cannons, Zabaleta for example was seconded by ... well ... Shepard's mother. Now, he did much better than I was expecting. Nonetheless there's a severe shortage of people on her team who I can trust, and entirely too many for me to shield. What I _can_ tell you is that besides Anderson they came back with at least one other dead man, Jack Harper – " Kahlee suppressed a brief exclamation;

"– and just how he wound up dead isn't clear yet but I wouldn't be at all surprised if Lawson shot him on sight."

"I see. She is a very ... _definite_ person."

"As you say. So I'm in the invidious position of trying to get Lawson and her people immunity in the face of some of her past actions. Right now I want her team out of town, and I'd like you to go with them."

"Can I take Jack with me?"

"She will only go with the kids."

"Even better."

Saturday, November 30, 2013 -2/2-


	11. By indirections

**After Dark**

_By indirections_

"Councilors, Primarch. Dalatrass. Clan Chief. Admirals. Optimus. Welcome to Earth space, once again under control of the Alliance, and welcome also to the Citadel. We chose this room to be sure that it was properly visible. Primarch, would you care to transfer proceedings there? I'm given to understand that the Presidium will not be remotely habitable for months, but the Dantius towers are semi-functional."

"Thank you, but no, Admiral Hackett, that will not be necessary. We were hoping to meet Earth's political leadership."

"Regrettably Councilor, the reason why you cannot is the first item we have to discuss."

There was some consternation among the assembled leadership, and a susurration among their aides.

"I have to advise also that there are several items on the agenda and that is nowhere near the most important. However, I can dispose of it fairly quickly. Primarch, we find ourselves in a situation in some ways comparable to your own, but much worse."

Primarch Victus nodded. Some of the details, especially those which needed to be suppressed, had already been discussed in private meetings earlier, with Wrex. There was a difficult political situation looming, and mutual support would be vital.

"Our former Councilor, Admiral Anderson, would have been an ideal choice for Earth's political leadership, at least while some of our more basic institutions are rebuilt. However, I regret to advise that the Admiral's body was found a few hours ago, within a few metres of the controls used to open the Citadel arms, allowing the Crucible to dock."

Sensation.

"Admiral Hackett, are you saying that he managed to open the arms himself?"

"Not quite, Dalatrass. The console logs indicate that his codes were entered at first but the command was aborted for reasons not yet clear. What is clear is that in addition to his corpse, one other dead body was found – that of the Illusive Man, Jack Harper, with a massive head wound."

"Ah. He interrupted Councilor Anderson, then, and Anderson shot him."

Interesting that the Salarians seemed to have posthumously restored Anderson to the Council ranks.

"That is entirely possible, Councilor Valern, but not quite certain. What the logs reveal is that the command to open the arms was in fact issued with rather dubious Spectre codes belonging to Commander Shepard."

Louder sensation and whispering from the cheap seats.

"Shepard's codes were accepted without secondary authentication, despite the severe wounds which compromised biometric validation, given the prior entry of the former Councilor, who we think was incapacitated while attempting it."

Valern and Tevos, as well as Dalatrass Linron, were clearly shocked. Wonderful, we've managed to keep it from the STG. The faces of Sparatus and Victus, however, betrayed not a flicker of surprise. Interesting.

"Did _Shepard_ shoot the miserable excrement?" From an unidentifiable quarian. The only quarian of real political seniority in-system was Tali vas Normandy, and she was in-system but not yet arrived. Hardly any of those who remained, around a thousand from ship casualties, were more than mid-level techs. Much the same was probably true of the Geth, except for Optimus, who was part of the company of Primes secured for Hackett by Shepard, after Rannoch.

Hackett inclined his head. "Harper's wound is entirely consistent with that hypothesis, but we simply do not know, and quite likely never will."

"Where is Shepard?"

"His corpse has not been found. Councilors, you especially are invited to examine the bodies we do have. You will see that despite being tens of metres from initiation of the singularity, and not even in the direct line of the shock wave, they were found in the iron rubble with truly intense charring. I might add that it seems Anderson took a bullet himself."

"From Harper."

"Presumably, yes, ma'am. It is blood loss which eventually killed him, not the charring, but there is every indication – we have some video records from the Crucible's docking perspective – that it was Commander Shepard who took an elevator to the docking point and who, after a long period of hesitation, destroyed one of the flux gates for the circulating plasma. This catalyzed a quantum subscale singularity which fired inside a hidden mass relay in the tower base, and caused the wormhole to collapse. At that time Commander Shepard was not three metres from the collapsing plasma tube."

Gentle murmurs. Sparatus cleared his throat.

"It seems then that credit belongs to Councilor Anderson as well as Commander Shepard?"

"Indeed, Councilor Sparatus. There is one further detail. An expedition from the Citadel reached the control platform a short time later, mounted on the authority of Commander Bailey. It included a platoon of his Turian C-Sec troops, and a medical detail under one of your own – "

"Tactus."

"– Correct. And it seems the medical detail included someone with access to Spectre codes. The same ones as were used to open the arm. But they could not possibly have been issued by Commander Shepard, for by that time the Crucible had fired."

Sensation!

"Was some nefarious action attributable to Tactus, Admiral?"

"On the contrary, Primarch. The platoon was not moving as quickly as Tactus' medical detail, and arrived at the docking point nearly an hour later. Tactus and his two aides, that is, Dr Chloe Michel and a therapist – "

Whispers, there; "– were meanwhile able to use codes belonging to Anderson and Shepard, to fire the thrusters at apogee, which did two things; it cleared the remnants of the Crucible from the tower, and it stabilized the Citadel in a sustainable orbit. We owe them all a debt difficult to repay."

Scattered applause.

"Dr Michel and Tactus were then picked up by one of our scouting flotilla, along with the bodies found. You may pay your respects to Anderson, and inspect the corpse of Mr Harper, at any time in the morgue. Tactus will be reporting back to Bailey, Primarch. Dr Michel is currently back at Huerta Memorial but will be available for consultation also, for a short time, pending redeployment to the fleet."

"Indeed, I have spoken to both. They were able to confirm all the details you provide."

"Thank you." _Oho._ "But to return to the original question, Councilor, there is simply no-one left of Anderson's stature to take his place. Accordingly, and _per_ the request of his living will, I have taken it upon myself to represent humanity until a proper civilian administration can be established."

Nods around the table. Frantic scribbling on datapads among the aides.

"With the permission of the councilors, I will move to the next and most important item on the agenda. As your own advisors will by now have told you, the Charon and Arcturus relays are defunct." Nods all around. "What may not be instantly clear to you all is that we believe _all_ relays around the galaxy have suffered the same fate."

Gasps. Some shock on the face of the quarians, the Dalatrass, and Tevos. Blank looks from the Primarch, of course, and Sparatus, interesting. The Geth representative had a hand in the air.

"I recognize Optimus of the geth."

"Admiral. Would this not mean we are stranded here? We have had no comm buoy link with the consensus for some days."

"Almost. Optimus, we may have bad news in that regard, I will see you shortly. But the situation may be most dire for the Salarians here. Dalatrass, I fear that according to our best estimates, it will take nearly a decade at typical speeds, allowing for refueling, repairs, and resupply from garden worlds, before you will be able to return to Sur'Kesh by FTL."

"But this is utterly unacceptable! By the time I return, I will be dead! More importantly, half my crews will be dead!"

"I fear you will have to make liberal use of cold sleep, Dalatrass. Or, you are welcome to stay here indefinitely. We owe you all a great debt, and the Reapers have left ... "

Hackett caught himself.

"... have left great wastes all around our major cities, especially, in which no human life can be found."

"This is ... this is monstrous! Even with cold sleep, the Salarian political leadership on Sur'Kesh will pass to rival families!"

"I understand the problem, Dalatrass, but I see nothing I can do to assist."

"Oh!" The Dalatrass ran from the room, followed by most of her aides. There was a brief, very total, silence. Slowly, a Spectre from the salarian Councilor's entourage – Bau? – entered her seat.

"Admiral, I apologize," intoned Valern. "I believe we will take you up on that offer, for now."

Hackett nodded. "In any event, the result is very inconvenient also for quarians, geth – these live furthest away – and also asari and turians. It is fortunate that the fleets of most races were able to jump through the relay net, just ahead of the collapsing wormholes, according to the statistics compiled by the relays before all power was lost. And of course, that means that with the exception of the very large populations on the Citadel, most of your consentients have gone home. But you cannot yet follow."

"Is there any plan afoot?"

"We propose to set aside areas in Australasia, especially, for your use, Primarch. Adelaide, in particular, has been depopulated, along with others of the major cities along the coast. The major problem with moving to the planet below is the very large number of indoctrinated humans which we are having to contend with."

"Is there a plan for _them_?"

"They are, psychologically speaking, adrift with the complete destruction of the Reapers. Most interestingly, Reaper artifacts no longer appear to have the ability to initiate or maintain indoctrination. Nonetheless, something like five percent of the population, including nearly all the former administration, was thoroughly indoctrinated. Many of them have killed themselves. Something similar happened to one of my researchers, Dr Amanda Kenson, indoctrinated at the time. Or they died from the effects of the red glow on Reaper implants. "

"Admiral."

"I recognize Commander Balak."

"Might I recommend that you segregate the population completely? If necessary, you should get them off-planet as quickly as possible. I do not believe they can ever be trusted again."

"Your point is well taken, Commander, but I am not in a position to decide that. Family ties among humans may well make it difficult or impossible. We may be obliged to transfer such populations, and their families, to fairly remote garden worlds as fresh colonies. At least their children would not suffer from the taint of indoctrination. In the long run, as we construct new navies, and new relays, perhaps we can welcome their descendants back to the race of reason."

"You are proposing to construct new relays, then?"

"Indeed, yes. We might recover the eezo, but personally, I would not trust workers near any reaper technology, such as the relays unquestionably are, ever again. Or if I do, they will be relays constructed by ourselves, jointly, of which we jointly and severally understand the operating principles."

Balak sat back, apparently satisfied. "We might delay our departure for home, then, Admiral, if you don't mind."

"You are welcome. Gentlefolk, this has been a long session with no small number of shocking revelations. I'm sure you will want to ponder the implications of what you have heard today. Is there any further business?"

Silence.

"These proceedings are closed."

Saturday, November 30, 2013 -5/5-


	12. Hope

**After Dark**

_Hope_

Gabby, Donnelly and Adams came up with Cortez to the cockpit.

"Come and grab coffee, Moreau."

"Uh, glad to see you guys. Steve, you okay with taking the conn?"

"Aye aye."

"Man, I'm buggered."

"So say we all, Moreau. But there's two days of slack time before we cruise into Sol system."

"Any idea what we'll find?"

"Some. Donnelly went over comm logs with the VI. Kenneth? "

"It's better than nothing. I miss EDI, though. It looks promising but we have indications the flash knocked out a handful of fleet vessels."

"Well duh. But weren't we the last out?"

"Not quite. A handful of raggedy-ass slow quarians got bounced by the flash, the last thing you heard was the squeal as their comms died. And a whole bunch of fighter jocks missed their carriers, they'll have to deorbit. Then there were ships too severely damaged to run, mostly Turian but a fraction of the other fleets too, they're out for the count until Hackett gets back. Probably de-orbit those too. Hope we can feed them."

The elevator opened and they headed for crew deck.

"Hackett's the big unknown. He'll probably spend the next few months travelling back from the Exodus cluster. Gabby, you disagree?"

"Sort of. I've been thinking about speed and time. He would have had time to rendezvous at Arcturus and hide for a few minutes on the far side of the star. If he got within a couple of AU of the photosphere, the soliton moving grid would have been degraded by neutrino flux in Arcturus' fusion layer. It would still kill reapers, that's what it's tuned for, but not ship systems. At least, not so much."

"So ... we could have done that too?"

"No. We left it too late. So did a fair few others."

Moreau cursed a blue streak. Adams winced. "Jeff?"

"That's the second time I've done that. Waited too long. Last time, I killed Shepard. This time I killed EDI. Did we get all the Reapers, do you think?"

"And how," said Donnelly. They exited the elevator, making for the kitchenette.

"I'll have tea, please. It looks like the crucible flash was repeated every time it overloaded a relay, and indications from Charon and Arcturus are it did for every one. There's hardly any dispersion at all from such a quantum soliton, and Gabby thinks just one relay shock would still be lethal to Reapers within fifty kiloparsecs, even in the galactic plane."

"Sweet Jesus."

"There's more, Kenneth. The thing was gaining on us. Not just in speed, it was still accelerating. And such soliton dispersion as does happen depends on interstellar neutrino flux density. Extrapolating, it would still have been reaper-lethal on the far side of Andromeda. I don't know exactly how this was done. In principle the creation and deletion of massively parallel quantum strings would work, but that requires access to a level of the universe below the standard model."

"Adams, you concur?"

"EDI didn't say a lot to me about it, Joker, but I can't fault Ms Daniels' calculations based on observing the actual grid behavior."

"Speaking of EDI ..." Jeff rose with some difficulty. They proceeded to the old AI room, now being used as medbay storage. "What _did_ EDI say to you? All she really said to me was how to dodge, where to go and a kind of goodbye. If I wanted to say a better one I'd have to go to her remote body, on the bench exactly where we laid it down after Mars."

"Basically she just told me what was about to happen and ran through a countdown while she was doing it – " Adams stopped in his tracks. Chakwas turned in surprise.

"Greg, Jeff , can I help you? We're finishing up some dextro-ration precursors."

Well that explained the cramped space. Adams didn't respond at once, but opened a VI channel: "Ashley, Tali, Liara, respond please. I'm at the AI core, could you meet me there?" Turning, he addressed Chakwas:

"No thanks, Karin, could you let me know when you're done? We may need rather a lot of DPU nodes soon. Gabby, I just had an epiphany. Jeff, EDI _did_ say something odd, almost the last thing, at the end of the countdown."

"What, then? Is she – it, the body – still in the AI core?" Donnelly opened the door to "AI core", just as Tali and Liara turned up.

"Depends on what is meant by "AI core". When you speak of core memory, folks, what would _you_ mean?" They all passed through. "There's a few possibilities," observed Liara.

Kenneth was a little nonplussed. "Well, in modern usage it's the highest-speed random-access refreshed memory. Doesn't have to be the registers in the CPU core, so not sure where that came from. Unless you mean the original high-speed random access memory, from the dawn of time, made of wired ferrite cores. Non-volatile but reading erased it, you had to write to it again immediately."

Ashley walked in. "What's this? Are you talking about EDI, Adams?"

"Sort of. EDI said to me, "dumping core", two seconds before the end. I nearly missed it. It's a historical usage from the days of ferrite core RAM, as Mr Donnelly says, which persisted well into the twenty-first century.. If I'm to take that seriously, in effect she was saying she would copy her memory state to some unwipeable storage. But the problem is, there isn't any. This room is in fact called the AI core – "

"Ah," said Tali and Liara, in unison. Joker interrupted: "Wait, you're saying EDI's alive?" Ashley leaned back against the wall, but looked interested.

"No, Lieutenant. Just that a specific part of her memory state could be recovered. If she did in fact copy it to a safe place. But her quantum blue box DPU technology has no safe place, here in the AI core, from what we went through."

Gabriella Daniels piped up. "Also bear in mind that this is quantum technology we're talking about. The Pauli exclusion principle asserts that a _perfect_ copy of a quantum brain can never exist at the same time as the original."

"What's the significance of _that_?" - asked Ashley.

Tali and Liara looked at each other. Tali inclined her head to Liara, who turned and explained;

"Ashley, If EDI was creating a perfect backup, she would have had to erase herself before the end of the process. In effect, she was gone before the soliton hit."

Jeff started to say something, but Ashley interrupted: "Hang on – Tali, didn't EDI have rather a chequered history?"

"Yes. She started out as a very high-level VI for combat simulations on Luna, but went rogue. Shepard had to put her down."

"I remember that. And then there was the video log in Chronos station, dear _God_ but that was an awkward moment."

"Uh huh? What happened?"

"A bit of history, Joker. The Illusive Man was discussing EDI's development with one of his techs, who said the VI ... um ... was smart enough to call for help – in binary ASCII, believe it or not – but that it wouldn't be talking philosophy anytime soon. So of course Shepard asks straight out, "_So you were that rogue VI on Luna? Guess we didn't start off on the right foot._"

Joker covered his eyes with his hands and shook his head.

"He _so_ missed a good punchline."

"It was a difficult birth, she said. That was when she began to have self-awareness, and people were shooting at her."

"Poor baby. So she shoots back, slays them all, then the universal soldier ups and terminates her."

"She came damn close to terminating _us_, Lieutenant."

"But Cerberus got hold of the VI hardware, Tali?"

"Yes, Gabby. And she was sort of 'improved.'"

"Improved how?"Adams looked very intently into the quarian's visor.

"They built tech upgrades into the surviving hardware that originated in research discoveries from captured reaper artifacts from Sovereign."

"Stop right there, Tali. So this isn't purely Alliance tech?"

"Well yes, it is. There are no Reaper parts, as such."

"But the important point is she wasn't a normal blue box. Where was the stasis projector?"

"There, on that bench where her old body is. I was sitting on top of it. Otherwise I'd be dead." Ashley, Liara, and Adams looked at each other, then at the body. Liara spoke first:

"Tali ... When we first saw that body ... it was an infiltration unit with synthetic flesh, calling itself Dr Eva Coré."

"And the Chronos video logs mentioned it as named 'Eva' by the Illusive Man," observed Ashley.

Adams broke the pregnant silence. "Okay. So there would be Reaper-based tech in that body, too. That means the core dump is possibly in there, or possibly under the bench."

"Or both."

"Let's look under the bench first."

It was a productive exercise. "Isn't that a graybox?"

"_Way_ too big." Chakwas had by this time displaced Donnelly and Gabriella, and was peering over their shoulders. "I think that's what some wag called a positronic brain. It employs the same kind of potentiated electro-optical synapse arrays using organic polymers which were pioneered in grayboxes, until they were banned."

"That wouldn't stop Cerberus. This is too big though. It's not lots of little grayboxes together?"

"No. Although the same self-organizing Hebbian potentiation principles are involved. It might well have been something derived from collector technology, or ultimately that of reapers. Use in this configuration is governed by a federally-owned patent. The only permitted instance in recent years was with Mr Huerta. That was actually quite a well known and understood bit of kit. Synthetic Insights made the prototype. This though is much larger, and the materials are different in detail."

"Can we read it out to a DPU cluster?"

"Dear Greg, I have no idea. Kasumi might know."

Joker sighed. "What about this Eva body then?"

Tali cleared her throat. "It had extensive use of AI shackles built in. EDI had to clip most of them after gaining root access. She could do that because her own AI core was by then unshackled. I don't know what you would get if you tried to power it up –"

"Can't, Tali," said Adams, shaking his head. "That was almost the first thing I thought of. More or less every electro-optical node from the neck down is fried, and those things are non-standard."

"Can we make more, and replace them?"

"Yes. It would take months. I'm going to get Daniels and Donnelly to refurbish the AI core's DPU nodules anyway, during slack time. If nothing else the VI would be more powerful, but it wouldn't be anything like EDI. While they're at it I'll get them to re-equip EDI's remote. It's good exercise, and who knows? Maybe one day."

Joker sighed. "Well that's more than we had before. Hope, I mean." On that note, everyone but himself and Chakwas drifted back to the kitchen area. Joker sat on the floor. After a few minutes, Chakwas came up and asked quietly,

"Penny for them, Jeff?"

"Aw, it's nothing important, Karin. It's just she's – it's completely powered off, you know? Even that orange visor is gone."

"I see. Strange to look at then?"

"Not really, just ... different. Notice the eyes are closed?"

Karin turned to examine the relic more closely. "Yes, I see. How very ... human."

"Exactly. I saw it after it concussed Ashley, whereupon Shepard and Vega trashed it. Man they did a number. It was as dead as dead can be. And yet its eyes were open ..."

"Yes?"

"Those eyes didn't close by themselves. EDI must have done that consciously."

Saturday, November 30, 2013 -6/6-


	13. And Now

**After Dark**

_And Now_

Beyond tired, Miranda left the sterile area, leaned back against the bulkhead, closed her eyes and exhaled, long and slowly. After a few seconds she looked up, started, and suppressed a squeal. Chloe Michel stood before her, arms folded, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Where the _hell_ did you learn to move like that?"

"In hell, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Courtesy the turian you threatened to kill a few hours ago."

"Sorry about that. I had absolutely no idea where he had come from, still less his intentions. If he hadn't been with you and –"

"Shh!"

"Did I miss something?"

"Hackett and Hannah want her to disappear. Again. Never existed."

"Seriously? Anyway, I'd probably have biffed him off the platform with a biotic slam. Wouldn't have killed him though."

Miranda began to methodically strip her disposable garments, and donned some fairly shapeless Alliance-issue fatigues. "If you don't mind my asking Doctor, what exactly are you doing here?" They headed out towards the commissary and approached the service VI.

"They want _you_ to disappear too."

"Uh oh."

"Mostly though they want you for something special. They wouldn't tell me what. Or even that it was something special, but I can read the signs."

"I'm not going to like this, am I? Coffee please, black no sugar."

"Green tea, thank you. Coats and Hackett also want Jennifer Zero and Kahlee Sanders with your team, but mostly they want _you_ and the biotic from hell out of Dodge, as Hackett put it."

"Jack? No way. Sanders, I suppose I could find a place. But I've just spent weeks getting my team the way I want it!"

"I sympathize. I really do. I've had to disengage from day-to-day operations at Huerta Memorial. Hackett said if we don't vanish, our lifespans will be short and he will lose the last of his hair."

"Eh? That's not good."

"True. But Shepard _m__è__re_ said bald men are sexy."

Miranda sneezed into her coffee. "Damn you, that was unfair. And it's not what I meant. If he's ripping you away from Huerta at this time things must be serious." She grabbed some tissues and made for a table to clean up.

"I'm just going to have to trust my staff. Actually what Hannah said was '_You've already got hot __older women__ writing you creepy fan mail, __including two asari matriarchs__, don't encourage them._'"

"Oh God. Look, seriously, people want you dead?"

"Something to do with frustrating certain black market ambitions."

"Dear me. Poor babies. Did Garrus Vakarian have anything to do with this?"

"Er ... Garrus, Bailey, and some gun for hire called Massani."

"Zaeed! How many died?" Miranda finished with her coffee, swallowing about half the small cup in one gulp. They began to return to the Special Trauma Unit.

"Garrus wouldn't tell me. Anyway, in the medium term I'm out of the news. I'm supposed to take over from you, here. That means you have to tell me everything you can about the technical solutions developed by Project Lazarus."

"They can't _do_ this to me!" wailed Miranda.

"Lawson. _Miranda_." Chloe leaned forward. "Does this have to be about you?"

"There is no way to communicate everything we painfully learned during Lazarus."

"Officially, I'm now the Orizaba's Chief Medical Officer. The excuse is that Huerta's a wreck and needs a special team during emergency repairs."

"Not happening. I don't have the manual since I quit Cerberus, for one thing."

"We'll start our own manual."

"Well, let's disregard how I might feel about it. It would take me weeks to try and recapitulate two years of research, and dammit there's bound to be something I'd miss."

"I will undertake to provide ten reams of A4 lined paper."

"Dammit, you're not listening to me! Why should I tell you _anything_?" They reached the door and she stopped. "Wait, that was a _joke_ ... right?" Dr Michel opened the outer door. They began to divest and put on disposable steriles.

"There is hope for you yet. Miranda, telling someone else surely can't hurt."

"Yes it can. The powers that be would have an excuse to boot me off the case. That would be a very bad idea."

"Can we induce a coma?"

"Yes, the implants are trashed, it's already done – why am I telling you this?"

"Um ... because Steven and Hannah say so?"

"Look, there's no way I can tell you or anyone else everything I know, most of that stuff is a matter of recognition not learning."

"If you don't, none of what you _might_ plan will happen. I and just two assistants am now in charge of his treatment _and I won't know what I'm doing_."

"I've been there before, it _will_ come back to me, but I _can't_ organize it in advance."

"I understand perfectly." Chloe finished and opened the first inner isolation door.

"Good."

"We will have to do our best without you." The second door.

"_No! _ That's not going to – " Miranda registered who was on the other side.

"Ms Lawson. Doctor."

"Admiral Shepard! Chakwas! You can't be in here!"

"Actually, Miranda, I was just about to say the same of you."

There was a brief silence during which Miranda played her words back to herself.

"Admiral, Karin, I'm so sorry, I just don't think we're at the point yet where I can let him out of my sight."

"I see. Doctor Michel, your team composed the trauma report. Your assessment?"

"Admiral, he has third degree burns to left hand side of his face, and second degree burns to forty percent of the rest of him, multiple fractures including of the right femur but I'm more worried about the strange hairline longitudinal cracks. Implants are completely burned out with concomitant effects on pain and touch receptors. The retinal taps will have to be completely rebuilt, MRI and CAT show something's happened to the heavy weave on his bones and that's barely hitting the highlights."

"Oh dear."

"On the up side, PET picks up no implants whatsoever under the pia mater, whatever burned him out didn't get to the central nervous system."

"Good. Nothing was visible of his face except some hair. "

"Ah. Well, in terms of cosmetic appearance it will be months before we even finish grafts. Miranda is relying on synthflesh which is a good medium term solution but will impose scarring if a transition to self-flesh isn't begun and quickly."

"Nonetheless, Doctor, he looks much improved. In the sense that finally there's a stable pulse."

"Karin, that's _Miranda's_ doing – " But the Admiral broke in:

"We need, and I do emphasize that word, Ms Lawson on other duties."

Miranda began to panic. If she was fired from Shepard's care anything could happen. "But you could lose him!"

The Admiral turned to her again. "Yes. I understand that. I've had many years to get used to the idea that I might have to give up my son."

Karin spoke up: "Do please work with Dr Michel on this, Miranda."

Miranda sighed. "I can do that ... Chloe? How long do I have?"

"Around two weeks, I think, Miranda. I understand you will be back in time for the next stage. We need to concentrate on those parts of the recovery process which we can handle _now_. On the other hand if you don't come back we need an overview."

"Whoever's taking notes will have to be up to the state of the art, and quick, to get the fundamentals down over such a short period."

"Michel, Chakwas, and perhaps one other are the personnel you've got. Two weeks is the time we can give you. Resupply and repair will take that long. Hackett thinks your next jobs might be extraordinarily dangerous. That's one thing you should know."

"I understand. He thinks I might not be back to help."

"Right. Here's another. It was hard to decide to let you try again. It's difficult to see the level of pain he's had to endure, over and above the call of duty. I do not want the love every mother bears her child to mount him on a cross of everlasting pain. Don't let him suffer needlessly. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly."

"On the other hand, he'd want your discoveries known for the use of others. So try."

"Yes ... ma'am." She looked at the two doctors. "Shall we get started?"

"_Ms Lawson_. There's more." She turned back. "About the other patient. It has a bearing on my decision too."

Miranda's cheeks began to burn with shame as she covered her eyes. The Admiral stepped forward, and cupped her hands under her chin. "_Look_ at me, please. I have been briefed on what happened. Now _why_ should I put my son's life in such hands?"

Miranda desperately fought the urge to shuffle her feet. "That doesn't sound like a rhetorical question. I suppose ... because I've done it before?"

"Correct. But I will give you another answer. If she can forgive you, I can too. Also, apparently there was something you didn't know."

"Yes." Miranda looked down and locked her fingers to stop them fidgeting. "They had a thing going. He told her to stay under the radar. Even_ I _couldn't find her."

"Just so. But that's not all. Karin?"

"Dr Michel asked me to check something. I had to ensure the patient gave a urine sample and blood tests before she went under anaesthetic, anyway. She would appear to be around seven weeks pregnant."

Miranda had seen this coming. Not generally given to regrets, she nonetheless sighed a great sigh. "Admiral, why do you want me anywhere near your son?"

"Karin, Chloe, would you see to the invalids please? Actually, Karin, I will meet you in the ward shortly."

"Yes ma'am." "Certainly."

And, like that, they were alone.

"Do not look so sad, please. A great many people, including my son, would not be alive if you were other than you are. Sit."

She sat.

"To answer your question, Ms Lawson, will require breaking some confidences."

"Oh?"

"The first is that I thoroughly approve of you. And so, I gather, did John."

"Oh!"

"You two had a thing going on well before your victim smiled at him."

Another sigh.

"John wrote about you. I think he might have been in love."

"_I_ certainly was. Am. And we had a wonderful time. But after the asteroid strike on the Alpha relay, he was under a cloud. _W__e_ had to cry off. Not her. I'm sorry –"

"We know. Let me finish. He was, like you, constrained by events. Then he was held incommunicado for months, until the Reapers struck. And after that he couldn't find you for a long time."

Miranda shook her head. "I didn't want to be found."

"Waited too long?"

"Right. There was more to it. There was family I had to take care of. Actually he _was_ there for me at the end. We did properly catch up eventually. And we all had one final wonderful party, except Chakwas couldn't come. That was just before he, EDI, and Ash took out the main Cerberus base."

"I heard about the party. Kahlee Sanders was scandalized."

"And of course Kelly wasn't partying."

"Lieutenant Moreau said she wasn't invited. It was like she was an unperson."

"Admiral, are you worried I might take John away? Or rather, back?"

"Not exactly. She does not have your unique charisma and drive. She's no kind of warrior. Not a biotic goddess, not a genius nor a heroine spectre. Just an ordinary girl –"

"_Hah!"_

"– yet, I know John was torn. So 'hah', indeed. She's a very good clinical psychologist, I think. She has, by all reports, other qualities."

"Yes. That warm chameleon presence. I should have known better. Right under my nose."

"Never mind. EDI copied Hackett some of the surveillance material from the Cerberus base, including archived video logs. She was tapped for the position of yeoman, along with other 'sympathetic characters', expressly to keep him '_invested_.'"

"Right. She was appointed directly by the Illusive Man. I should have picked that up."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Others missed it too. Chloe says '_Nothing special at all,_' is how she describes herself when she's trying to blend in. The fact is, though, your friend Liara showed us something ... the Alliance and the old Shadow Broker had compiled dossiers on many of his known associates."

"Was she mentioned?"

"No. Kelly Chambers was never listed as a known associate, so their intelligence was not perfect –"

"_Masterly_ understatement."

"– but the Broker did get copied _you__r_ examination by the Ilium clinic."

"Oh no."

"Oh, yes. No-one thinks you will try and steal him, Miranda. Why should you? Besides, to make John happier, I think this slip of a girl would softly and silently vanish away."

"With her child."

"Yes. Conversely, if you go, John would go looking for you. Please don't go."

Monday, December 9, 2013 -6/6-


	14. Find directions out

**After Dark**

_S__iege perilous_

"I call this session to order."

The council members drifted back to their tables. Besides Sparatus (the chair) there was finally another human Councilor, Dominic Osoba. Hackett had refused the job point-blank, but he was in the background with other council advisors, and ranking members of most species. Sparatus looked steadily around the table till all the councilors were seated.

"As the agenda indicates, we have a preliminary plan. Would you please consult the brief outline provided." A rustling ensued as the assembled multitude – some thirty persons – consulted their datapads.

"You will observe the very first item involves a first wave of a very few ships with newly-made QECs heading straight for homeworlds. A bit of background here. As nearly all of you will have discovered, the QECs support circuits either failed during the EM pulse, or lost entanglement with the passage of the soliton. Commander Balak, a question?"

"There have been some cases where they survived, have there not?"

"Regrettably few, commander. There _were_ exceptions. Asari and Turian fleets carried by far the greatest number of QECs and one or two of these actually survived with entanglement pairs intact at both ends, which allowed Councilors Tevos and Sparatus as well as Primarch Victus, a minimal level of contact with their homeworlds."

"Are any close to Batarian space?"

"Not that I am aware. Admiral Hackett, you wish to speak?"

"Salarians are closer, but the Salarians had far fewer, I'm told because they represent an intelligence nightmare – QEC usage can't be detected, and they can't be interfered with. They're the perfect bug. Or spy radio. A very small number of commercial QECs linking to remote industrial outposts did survive, but these are nonetheless some months away by FTL from Batarian space. For example my staff advises there are two live QEC connections to the Crucible construction site, one of which is in the fleet, the other in the Voyager Cluster, but getting that one to the Kite's Nest, say, would involve a voyage of some years to Batarian borders."

"I see. We are left with the long voyage home alone, then."

"You will not necessarily be alone Commander, we will provide some liaison, as we will for the remnants of the Geth, and for those left behind by the Quarian fleet. To maintain contact we can also produce QEC pairs for ties by ansible. It will take a couple of weeks for newly entangled nuclei to be set up. In the interim, supplies are accumulating to equip the first wave."

The batarian commander looked thoughtful. "Yes, I received the briefing."

"Very well. Shall I resume? Then the second priority is to rebuild Earth and Citadel industries, as well as such broken fleet vessels as may be quickly and economically returned to service. This will mean reverting to a planned economy for approximately five solar years."

Immediate interest from all. Only the Turians and Batarians had recent experience with central war planning, and only the Turians had done it successfully.

"_But _there is a special category of construction project. Specifically, it appears that at least one and possibly two mass relays survived the soliton and pulse, although they are not useful at present."

Clearly most did not see the significance. However, the quarian and geth representatives focused on the obvious technical anomaly.

"I recognize the representative of the geth consensus."

"Councilor Sparatus, how can this be? All calculations indicate that the eezo core of every mass relay would collapse, propagating through the wormhole with predictable catastrophe along the chain."

"Not all mass relays used an eezo core to power and maintain a wormhole connection. Consider, if you would, which relays were _not_ built by the Reapers."

Sparatus watched with some satisfaction the looks of dawning comprehension on the faces of, especially, the human and quarian members present. Clearly Hackett had kept his promise of an embargo on the ideas generated by the Joint Crucible Team and the Normandy's experts. "I see that some of you have worked it out. There was a link to the Citadel by two mass relays produced by the Protheans –"

"From Ilos!"

"Quite right, Councilor Valern, we of course know one end now as the Conduit. It was produced at Ilos, like the other end, but transported to the Citadel presidium. It has been retrieved from the old Citadel Archives to the turian flagship, where is has been yielding its secrets to a joint asari/human/turian team of scientists. Yes, Councilor?"

"The Salarian STG would very much like to have an observer on the team."

"This was anticipated." Laughter. "I understand the team leadership has no objection to participation by council races or associates."

The batarian commander looked annoyed. Well, he had a choice now, didn't he.

"I should mention the Protheans were _not_ using the Reaper approach to such technology but rather their own. Matriarch Aethyta?"

"Was it Dr Liara T'Soni who brought this to our attention?"

"Indeed it was." Well prompted, you sly old fox, thought Sparatus.

"That is a reminder, if any were needed, of the benefit of pure research. Although I'm given to understand that it was Admiral Tali vas Normandy who noted the practical significance of the lack of an eezo core." The quarians present stood a little straighter.

"What, really no eezo core in the prothean devices?" – Councilor Valern.

"Absolutely. Do recall what "eezo" means – element zero. That is to say, matter as an element of atomic number zero. For non-technical personnel it is easy to forget that this is sometimes listed in the periodic table as, quite simply, neutrons – just as protons are recognised as element one, that is, hydrogen."

"You are saying the Protheans used another form of eezo?"

"Exactly. Free neutrons are impractical as exotic matter. Special techniques are required to lengthen the half-life beyond fifteen minutes. Generally dineutrons are the most conveniently attained form of element zero. But there are entirely different forms theoretically possible, such as pentaquarkium. It turns out that the Protheans on Ilos exploited this to create miniature mass relays of unheard-of range."

"I think I see. Anyone who saw the Conduit in the days when it was a monument to the Protheans can attest that there was no eezo core visible within the gimbals."

"Right, and Admiral Tali'Zorah has been pondering the anomaly ever since. She enlisted the help of the Normandy's AI which analysed the recorded energy signature of the Ilos end. It turns out that the gimbal arms generating the string border of the Prothean conduit's wormhole contained were powered by Casimir conversion."

Now it was the geth representative visibly paying more attention.

"It turns out that Prothean Casimir technology has no upper energy bound. How did she put it .. ah yes, "If I were on God's development team I'd file a bug report."

Laughter.

"At the time nothing could be done with this, but the construction of the Crucible allowed Dr Brynn Cole to advance the technology of Casimir capacitors to the point where, as she put it, 'large-scale gluon separation can be achieved.' I do not pretend to understand the significance, but the effect is that substantial quantities of exotic matter can be formed within the gimbal rings, with the result that a few small-scale mass relays like the conduit can be produced with technology available now, and if the will is present, many more later, with almost arbitrary range."

"How does this help us now?" - that was the Admiral of the Alliance 63rd Scout Flotilla. Interesting, Hackett clearly had not briefed him.

"Councilor, if I may."

"I yield the floor to Admiral Shepard."

"First, Admiral, it will be possible for fleets on long voyages to homeworlds to pause and anchor an arbitrarily long looped series of mass-relay point-to-point connections, thereby maintaining a rapid-transit service back to the citadel for small scout craft. Or even land craft, if the conduits are mounted on suitable moons."

"Ah!" The batarian representative was nodding vigorously.

"Second, it should be clear that if we drop off conduit-style miniature mass relays at the site of each expired major mass relay, the job of reconstruction will be greatly advanced." More nods.

"Finally, it was projected that it could take decades or centuries for all citadel citizens who wished to return home. But if conduit chains are set up along the old transit routes over the next dozen years or so, it will be possible to establish a way home for most, even before the large-scale mass-relay construction begins. Councilor, I believe that covers the main thrust of the Admiral's question. I yield the floor."

General applause, and obvious relief among those present. Including the news media. Good. That was really the whole point of this – how had Aethyta put it? Dog and Pony show.

"Well said. So, in the short and medium term we are planning a second wave of fleet ships with three major goals:

– first, to drop off conduit-style relays at mass relay sites, as described.

– second, to set up small colonies there for working parties to begin restoration of the major relays,

– third, to restore contact with ground colonies for different species.

– fourth, to return as many important officials as possible to their homeworlds." Sparatus silently allowed himself to hope that there they would be out of the way of those actually trying to get some work done.

"Are there any further questions?" Sparatus braced himself.

"The chair recognizes Khalisa bint Sinan Al-Jilani ..."

Wednesday, December 4, 2013 -4/4-


	15. These three remain

**After Dark**

_These three remain_

The world gently infused into a dreamless, timeless state. There was white everywhere. Puffy pillow. Crisp sheets. Glowing panels in the ceiling. Soft noises and an occasional metallic _plink. _

_How fascinating__. I'm still here._ There seemed to be a complete absence of threat.

Did she need to deal with the noises? No urgency. Fluffy sensation embedded in a cotton cloud. There was something very desirable about being able to drift away into something resembling sleep again. The universe had been altogether too busy for too long. She turned away from it for a little longer.

Returning to consciousness was a prolonged series of gentle dips and rises from a world of cotton wool, till at some point she felt another presence close by. A door opened and closed. Gently nudged by her reviving senses, she became gradually aware of a chair, and a person reading.

She still didn't want to move, but her eyes began reporting a coherent view of the world. Which did seem spartan and military, yet very peaceful. That incongruity sparked a wider overall interest in her surroundings.

A severe-looking woman, her hair pepper-and-salt, in blue-grey fatigues, was making marks on old-style paper with an old-style pencil. These were still popular on board ship and in colonies, at least where paper could be had or made.

Steps approached and a figure in dark clothing appeared, an older man with scars, in an officer's fatigue tunic. Not an unkind face. Perhaps it was time to wake up. She opened her eyes fully and tried to lift her head. She was in a hospital bed, angled up slightly.

"Ow." Fully awake now, though parts of her clearly preferred sleep.

The woman turned to look, and smiled, suddenly radiant, the dour impression vanishing. Frost leaving a Canadian window in the morning. She exchanged glances with the officer, who spoke first.

"Welcome back to the living, child. One has heard so much, yet so little, about you."

She began trying to sit up. He offered a hand, gently pulled her forward, the two of them tilted the bed up further and rested pillows behind her back and neck. Now she could sort of sit up. The officer looked back at the woman. "So. How long has trouble been awake?"

"She's only just woken, I think. Her eyes were closed two minutes ago." She showed the man her paper pad. There was a drawing of a beautiful sleeping woman, but – wait, that's _me? _"_Oh!_" Way too flattering. She didn't have eyelashes like that. Her appearance – she patted her hair. It was longer, a little, it had filled out. Someone had shampooed it, too, it was puffy. Was she more redhead than blonde again? _Damn_.

"Where am I?" How original, not. "I mean, is this the fleet? Chloe said something about the Orizaba?"

"Indeed yes. Steven, there should be a chair by the bed next door. I'm Hannah Shepard. Dr Michel would like to see you but she's a bit busy, another doctor's in charge of you."

_Hannah!_ Oh boy. 'Steven' returned with a chair and sat next to her. She couldn't help an automatic reaction, covering her mouth with her left hand and beginning to point. Suppress that, stupid girl. "So you're – you must be Shepard's boss? You look a little different from the holos."

"I had more hair back then, and it was darker. Pictures don't do you justice either, young lady. Do you feel like talking to us? Your Doctor Chloe was able to tell us a little, John had said a lot more but it was difficult to credit, and Lieutenant Moreau threatened us with an unending stream of bad jokes if we kept you to ourselves, you will have to see him at some point."

"Jeff said that? He must be all right." Turned to the woman. "And you must be John's mother! This is your ship? And Admiral, this is your fleet! Why – I mean – what do you want with me? I've left Cerberus. Am I in trouble again? What have I done now?"

"Whoa, whoa there." Hackett had a twinkle in his eye as he waved her worries away. "The Cerberus thing is an old story ..."

That was a weight off her shoulders ...

"... Some Spectres pardoned a small number of defecting Cerberus staff, including you, so you're safe from the Council, and I've ratified it for the Alliance. That's not the trouble you're in, missy ..."

... Although it sounded like she still had some kind of misdemeanor to answer for, but not to a firing squad ...

"... What do we call you, anyway? Felicia? Hannigan?"

Oh boy. The forged IDs. She wished she could speak to John about this. Were they after her or Harkin? At least she wasn't facing prison, or worse.

"Well, John said to make myself scarce, but _yo__u_ can call me Kelly."

She beamed at them. Hackett blinked, turned to Hannah Shepard. "They weren't kidding." Hannah nodded vigorously. She felt her cheeks burn.

Never mind that for now. "Admiral, I mean Hannah, I guess John made it?"

There was an immediate drop in temperature. "In a way, yes. Though, there's only so much we can do right now." Oops.

"We think once some basic issues are dealt with, we may have to cold-sleep him for a little while, till certain implant repairs are possible again."

"Oh." She felt briefly deflated, but – "So he's alive though? Can I talk to him?"

"We'll take you soon. But not to speak, dear. There is progress, but he's asleep for now, and some time to come."

Whew. By the time the shuttle had reached the infirmary, the last word from Chloe, while she stuck a needle in her and the world went spinning round, was "Stop worrying, sweets," damn woman and her sense of humor, but you never knew.

"You are among the very few who can. See him, that is, or even know he's alive. We are trying just as hard as we possibly can to keep the fact of his continued existence a secret. There have simply been too many strange things happening."

"There was some unlikely rumour about ... a clone?"

"No rumour." There was a knock at the door. "Come in, Doctor" said Hackett. But it wasn't Chloe, it was Dr Chakwas. "_Karin!_ The Illusive Man's not around any more."

"I know, Kelly. Tactus would like to see you."

"Can I? Is that alright, Admiral?"

Hackett looked severe. "Perhaps, but you're in a similar case to the commander. Would you like to see _him_, dear?"

"Please!" What was all this _dear_ business?

"Very well. Chloe tells me he'll make trouble if he doesn't see you alive and happy. I'll have her impress on him the desirability of ignorance. And Moreau ... he's heard something ... but the fewer who know, the better. I hope he can keep a secret."

"He can. When lives depend on it."

Hannah seemed to accept this. "Good. We _don't_ want wild stories being broadcast. Or any kind of story. At least not all the truth. I'm sending nearly everyone who might be curious away on actually fairly important stuff that happens to be far from the citadel. For a while."

"Same here. Tactus is the imponderable. He will already have told the Primarch some inconvenient tales. But I don't imagine for two seconds it would be smart to keep him out. Young lady, please do what you can to impress discretion upon him."

Dr Chakwas jumped in: "Steven. Besides Jeff, don't tell the Normandy people ... yet. Keep them so busy they stop thinking about it."

"Right. They can wait a little longer. _You_ debrief Moreau, Karin. I'll have a word with the Primarch, too."

"Very well, Admiral ... but in other news, Fleet Security detected Kasumi boarding a shuttle _en route_ here. Zaeed has heard C-Sec sent certain persons on patrol and is threatening mayhem. Bailey is not impressed."

"We'll speak to Mr Massani. And Bailey. Let Ms Goto think she hasn't been spotted."

"Good luck with that."

"Get Miranda to track down Kasumi, then she can see our young delinquent. I have things for them to do if they can refrain from squabbling, and by the time they get back their partner in crime can be elsewhere."

"I never!"

"We know, we know. Doctor, will you need assistance?"

"I don't think so, Admiral, I have a wheelchair outside."

"Very well. Hannah, with me, we have to put the fear of God in a man who doesn't believe." And poof, they were gone.

"That was a bit ... sudden. But they were very friendly. I was expecting ... I don't know, not this."

Karin was examining her, a faint grin on her face. "They don't have a lot of time, dear."

"God, not you too, what's this _dear_ nonsense." A faint suspicion began to form.

"Ah. True. Well, it's easier when we don't know what to call you, for one thing. Here, let's get you out of bed."

She found she could stand. And breathe, but she felt a little dizzy and unwell.

"I guess I'm Kelly for now."

"As you wish."

She wobbled in front of the wheelchair and sat with a bit of a thump. Ugh.

"Or you could call me Buttercup. My disguise is clearly slipping. Why are _you_ pushing this thing?"

"Orderlies chat, and would remember you."

"Where are we going?"

"Next stop is to see Dr Michel who for some reason demanded to be told when you were back with us. She's at the special trauma facility, but Miranda insists on calling it the Lazarus lab. Less than a dozen people are permitted entry. Chloe, you and I among them."

"Me!?" Fifty metres further, they branched off into another pristine white area.

"You'll see." They had to change clothing and go through barrier practice.

She was feeling better by now. Karin was watching with a critical eye. "Doctor, for heaven's sake, I'm not made of eggshells. I can walk." Her antennae were frantically signalling ... _something. _

"Very well. With me."

They proceeded through two doors. Chloe was waiting on the far side. "_Oh!"_ She tried to hug, but received a reminder of mortality. "I won't try that again soon."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"People are being very ... kind."

Chloe grinned and hugged _her_. "Oof. Okay. Can I see him?"

"Right this way. Miranda and I have just finished basic work on the eyes. He's still a bit of a mess, I'm afraid. Well and truly under for some time, several weeks at least."

They entered. Miranda looked up and smiled, wonder of wonders. "Come here, you." She returned the smile, a little unsurely. "Gosh." Antennae waving faster now.

A vaguely John-shaped mummy lay in the middle of a sparsely furnished ward, the only occupant in a bed with more instrumentation than the Normandy's comm board.

"Chloe, you and I have things to take care of. We'll leave you two here a while."

"Good plan." How convenient. But Miranda did not seem quite so ... fraught.

She approached in some trepidation. There were tubes, silver and white wrappings. Some gold. She sat down on the other side, and looked a question. Miranda began bringing her up to speed. Why was she super-friendly? It was ... nice. But disturbing.

"... not much under the wrappings yet, but the self-flesh is making progress. It's the bones that worry me. There are hairline fractures everywhere, not healing as fast as they should. But Karin thinks she has a plan. It involves an old technique with impressed electromotive force."

"_Oooh_. Well met, Dr Frankenstein." That made Miranda smile properly, with the eyes. Good. It lit her face right up. But what was happening? "You seem less stressed."

"Not sure why. I'm not safe. You could have made my life a complete misery."

This was baffling. "Why on earth would I want to?"

The two women sat quietly together for a few moments in a silence punctuated only be the occasional _bleep _of a monitor. Miranda cleared her throat. "Guess what, I've had to relinquish the primary treatment lead role here."

"But why!?"

Miranda shrugged. "There are things which need doing. And to be honest if I kept the job I'd have to ditch my team."

"Ah. Shepard would never do that."

Miranda seemed a little absent. "I'm not him though. What he says isn't the last word."

"You don't fool me."

"No. I guess not. I received an earful about you, a few hours ago."

"Nice things?"

Miranda smiled again. "Illuminating things. They were nice, too. I'm supposed to talk to you. So you don't run off like a scared rabbit."

"That plan's a bust. I've got alarm bells going off inside. All these people being super-sweet to me? I usually have to _work_ at that. Is it because of Shep? It shouldn't be. He thought the world of _you_. I could tell."

Miranda laughed. "Him, yes, a little bit." Came around and sat beside her, swinging her legs. "Don't kid yourself, Kelly. He would have crossed the galaxy to find _you_."

"He did, I guess. But not me alone. I'm just a cupcake."

"All the more delectable. I didn't think you were real, you know. You put Brooks to shame."

"Who's Brooks?"

"One of a long series of aliases. You haven't been watching the news? Kept a clone of Shepard instead of dumping it."

"I think I heard about a clone."

"Brooks - Hope Lilium when I knew her - composed the initial list for his team, but fell out with the Illusive Man when he included aliens."

"I know _that_ name." Miranda was a little startled at that.

"Well, what you might not have been aware was she turned out to be a frank xenophobe. Tried to substitute one Shepard for t'other. Fooled everyone, inveigling herself into the team. Overdid it, in my opinion. No-one's that sweet. Except you actually are."

"I'm not. I'm a conniving witch. I told the Illusive Man she was a conniving witch, too. Except I smelled a terrible childhood. Mine was a fairy tale."

"Really? I'll get more of the story later. Set that aside for now. You've met his mother?"

"I'm so _not_ nice. I've put husks down. One Cerberus trooper on my scent. Headshots. Shepard showed me how. Even after everything I did. Where's my gun, by the way?"

"Toombs has it. He's got it in pieces and is mumbling."

"Oh my."

"Don't worry, when he gives it back it will probably take a marauder in one shot."

"Headshot, maybe."

"Wait. You've dodged the question. Impressive. I nearly missed it."

"I liked that gun. It did its job very quietly."

"Chambers!"

"Now that's the Miranda we know and love."

"_Kelly!"_ Sharply, but she didn't mean it. She was cracking up. Good.

"Fine, yes, I met Hannah."

"When?"

"Just a little while ago. And Admiral Hackett. Being suspiciously nice. Like you."

"She'd walk through fire for you. And Hackett would follow her."

"_Why?_ This is driving me nuts."

"My dear Kelly. John loved you. That would be enough. But that's not all." Miranda took her hands in hers. "Chloe ran tests. You're carrying Hannah's grandchild."

"_Oh."_ Pieces of the jigsaw fell into place with a clang. She put her hands to her cheeks, then over her navel. Miranda nodded. "That's ... shouldn't I have noticed?"

"Not necessarily. Not this early, at least."

Kelly thought about it a bit more. "Oh joy. And I even wondered for a fraction of a second. My contraceptive's expired."

"But you went with it anyway." Not said meanly. Miranda's eyes crinkled at her.

"It went out of my head. We ... this is hard to explain ... we got ourselves into this position – don't look at me like that, I mean he was sort of in a bad place, I wasn't well myself, and he'd pulled me from an unspeakable death. We were talking, in the dark, and we ... lost it. I was sore afterwards, but I felt so much better. He did too, I think. His eyes looked better."

Lost in recollection, Kelly paused. "It was wonderful. Then he did it again."

"Stop it, you're making me green."

She looked down at herself. "Well. I suppose in a few months, I'll be an exploded pocket of flesh. He's not going to want me after that."

"Kelly, that's so ... I can't begin to tell you how wrong that is. Besides," and Miranda grinned at her, "with the exercises I have planned you'll be a sylph again in weeks."

"Oh no. Have mercy."

"Sorry. I have my instructions. Boss has plans. You did ballet?"

"I haven't danced for years!"

"That's not what I hear. We'll start with _Giselle_ ..."

Time passed. After long and long, there wasn't much left to say. She summoned up her courage and asked: "Can I touch?"

"Go ahead. I do, too. Sometimes."

She laid a hand on his forehead. Shepard, if you can hear me in there ...

"_Come back soon_."

Thursday, December 5, 2013 -8/8-


	16. Dreamtime

After Dark

_Dreams_

That night pain relented, and the usual dream did not come. Instead, he found himself back on the Citadel, after Udina's coup, vexed, hurting, and frankly pissed with himself for letting that bastard with the tricked-out sword go. This was not necessarily an improvement. Better when he didn't know he was dreaming. He had to relive too many close calls, especially that quasi-invisible phantom he'd detected at the last second, and that damned Atlas.

Why had there been no expression on the Phantom's face when he died? His hands were shaking, but before he could go back to the Normandy, he had to check on Thane.

Actually what he wanted to do was _hit_ someone responsible, wring the impurities from life. Udina didn't count, not least because he wasn't quite certain Udina was in his right mind. Besides, if he hadn't popped him, Ashley surely would have, it was heading that way after she worked it out. Putting Leng down would have been ideal, but that catharsis had been denied him. Down again to a choice between stopping Udina and stopping Kai Leng. Really that was no choice at all, if he was going to live with himself afterwards.

Even there he hadn't done his job right. What they really needed was Udina alive. Such a defection was incomprehensible. He might have been indoctrinated, but where could such indoctrination have come from? Udina hadn't spent significant time near any kind of Reaper artifact.

Shepard skated around Udina's betrayal, viewing it from every angle. It seemed less like indoctrination and more an act of desperation by a man who thought that he, and only he, knew how to proceed in the face of the threat. That struck too close to home. Was this going to be a catalogue of his errors again?

Stuff that for a game of soldiers. Welling up from he knew not where, came a profound longing for something, not comfort and shelter, something else. Thane. Bailey had said to see Thane. God knew, he'd been doing for people like Leng since before Shepard was born. Then Leng had done for him, and he had done for Leng. Why was that disturbing? It should be satisfying. But Leng had reminded the Illusive Man of Shepard. Live by the sword, die by the electro-optical hard spike.

Shepard supposed he was lucky. He'd managed to kill himself, frustrating the pattern. If this was hell, that might be why he was in it, even if the point was not to die but to save his world. Maybe everyone had to spend a season in hell.

…

In that way dreams have, Shepard sègued into the moment where he closed Thane's eyes. Another friend gone, and he still hadn't been able to properly say goodbye. Although at least Thane had managed to say goodbye to _him._

But this dream didn't follow the script. After Kolyat spoke, a night mist froze all around them, and Thane slipped off the gurney, standing before him. It was hard to think, like hearing with cotton wool. _Dream_, something in Shepard reflected, if you're dreaming you can't be dead. They've got you so pumped full of medication you're losing it even in your dreams. Is that why I can't wake up?

"_Siha_. Do not trouble yourself with Leng. Had you not ministered to him, the Illusive Man would have. That one turns on all his servants, in the end." The wall of mist behind Thane began to glow.

"That's all very well Thane, but I get the impression the way of Leng's going will be a problem down the line for me." There was day behind him. A boat, a river, down to a sunlit sea. He could see through the boat, and the female Drell, but not the river.

"No. You're not looking at this from the right side of time's wall. You will solve his problem. You _have _ solved his problem. This cycle will end and you have ended it."

"And it ended me. Again. Or am I sleeping? Last time there was nothing like this."

"My time came. Not yours. Yours is a form of sleep, but a longer rest with no dreams is coming. Not your end. You have things to do. There are still your people who believe you watch over them. Liara would speak to you, if she knew where you are. Find Ashley, after she walks your path. Also Miranda, close to the evil that took Leng. Your girl. They've had a bad time, and want you back. Look to them. Look to your friends, all of them. Not your enemies. Leng is no longer your concern, or mine."

Thane turned slowly. Left for the boat, holding the hand of the other. He had better say it while he still could. "Goodbye Thane." He turned and waved. Then he, the boat, and the river disappeared with the mist.

Shepard turned, but the hospital door wasn't there, he was in the docks. Orbit nightside. Strange. The walls were shattered, the roof mostly gone, you could see the stars. Yet there were people walking around the debris, or through it. Couldn't spare the energy to ponder the anomaly. His head was still stuffed with cotton wool dream stuff. He stopped. What's here? _Who_ is here? Then the sundering dark took the sky, the stars, the planet the docks, and himself.

Monday, December 9, 2013 -2/2-


	17. Silent Running

**After Dark**

_Silent Running_

How could she have allowed this to happen? She tossed and turned, wildly wondered where she could run, imagined ways of eliminating the alien growth within. She couldn't go through with it. She couldn't _not_ go through with it. Where could she run? How had she come to this? _What_ had she been _thinking_?

Eventually, so very late, she stopped thinking.

That night she dreamed of meeting him, as they had been after the Cerberus coup. She wasn't hiding any more, C-Sec was back in charge, but she had still been seeing 'ghosts' – a glance at a person on the street might show a familiar face, a friend on the lam from Cerberus, but looking twice would reveal a total stranger.

Except once or twice it really would be an old friend and they would cry on each other's shoulders, then quickly realize they were dangerous to each other and separate again. Some people she sent John's way, others to see Bailey, or Garrus, a few to Zaeed – usually the angrier ones with the bad implants. He'd compliment her, saying they were his best recruits ever. She didn't quite know how to take that.

So she'd return home every night and delve into her burrow among her refugees, who never failed her. Even the batarians appreciated her, and not just the slaves. She kept going, for it was something she could do. She knew people, and somehow she had a knack for getting across what needed to be done.

Especially the food. It had been getting scarce, but mainly because of bureaucracy, the automated farm freighters were still getting through the relays. It just wasn't moving off the docks till she got involved. That had been a scary time. It turned out some people very much wanted the rations to stay on the docks, especially the _laevo_-rations. She had spoken to Garrus. Garrus had spoken to Bailey. She didn't want to appear on Bailey's radar, but had spoken to Massani, then somehow Bailey had known where to find her.

Massani had plotted and schemed with Garrus, and both had disappeared for a couple of days. Then they came back, and magically some other people did not.

She'd felt bad about that. She had only wanted the obstructions and threats to stop; now she obscurely felt guilty. Massani just kidded her about it. Garrus wouldn't say anything to her at all, but Chloe – much braver than she – asked him sternly "_how many of the toads __did __you bump off?_" He'd languorously sipped his brandy and said "_An elegant sufficiency, dear heart._" Gentlemen apparently didn't talk about the ladies they lived with or the men they'd offed.

So now they lived with occasional rumblings from people who resented them. But it wasn't anything like as bad as literally hiding in dark corners and keeper tunnels from white-and-gold Cerberus troops who had a little list, which she was on.

Strangely, Harkin's disguise and fake ID had worked. Very few refugees knew who she really was, and they were able to cultivate a remarkable blindness among the others. But she was still scared to death most days. At night she had the most terrible dreams, being back in the pod. It had worn her down.

Then Shepard had come checking on her. She couldn't quite believe it. He really was looking for her, not in her capacity as refugee liaison. He didn't look well, either, nothing physical, something around the eyes.

She asked him who was looking after him, fishing. They've vanished, he said. He wanted her. Come back. It was too much. She couldn't go back to that ship. Still, come and talk with me, she said.

They retreated to the containerized burrow, knowing how it must end but somehow not able to stop themselves. And once in her private space, they held each other, and kissed, and she cried, and he had some tears too. So she told him her most evil memories, which had become her nightmares, and he told her about Mordin, and Thane, and being powerless to stop their deaths.

She knew all about being powerless, and kissed him, longer, harder. He kissed away the salty tears from her eyes, her face, her neck … "_Dear God, but I missed you so_," and she burst in tears again, that meant another kiss. "Shep –"

"– _Shh. Later_." And it all went completely out of control then, dear God but he was _strong_, and an orange mist had descended over the memory, but she could dream of them collapsed entwined together, for some seconds simply panting and staring at each other, till the panting slowed to breathing and he began to speak; "_Kelly_ – "

She tried to shut him up with a finger against his lips, winding her legs around. Still:

"If I've done you harm –"

"Listen at you."

"But –"

"I'm yours to dispose of, or not. I've been at your disposition for some time, you silly man. Shush."

"You're your own –"

Index finger against his lips, again.

" – said the man who rescued the demoiselle from the dragon. _Shepard_. If you hadn't risked everything for us, and in particular for me, I'd be reaper paste. I've loved you since I can't remember when, and I owe you more than a few abrasions will ever repay."

Whereupon they spoke at length about how he was not an evil cradle-robber, and she was no schoolgirl (although it hadn't actually been all that long), together they showered then twined together again on the bed and spoke a long, long time, about dreams, and death, and love. And popping her cherry, figured just a little bit.

"And one more thing." She grinned at him. "What?"

"It's been more than an hour. Kiss me, and do it again."

So he did.

Then she woke.

Why had she thought running was a good idea?

Monday, December 9, 2013 -3/3-


	18. Risky business

**After Dark**

_Take the long way home_

There were fifteen in the flotilla; eight frigates, five cruisers, a dreadnought, and the huge dry dock, doing duty as a freighter. Garrus contemplated the loading schedule in the fading Tasmanian sunlight.

"This won't do, Primarch, Forget the dreadnought. It's time to take a risk and replace it with two freighters."

"You're assuming there's no pirates."

"The Salarians will be heading for the Annos Basin in cold sleep with only automated systems and _one_ watch crew rotated every year. You don't think they have a handle on the risk? _We _are pushing towards the Apien Crest, directly opposite the Attican Traverse nor the Terminus systems, and there's no way a pirate fleet will catch up on FTL."

"So what do we do with the Dreadnought?"

"Start a conversion to fighter and frigate carrier. Duplicate some of the dry dock's fabrication capability."

"Why?"

"Two reasons. The original idea of a single string of conduits in a loop doesn't do the idea justice. There needs to be the ability to quickly explore planets off to one side, so for every conduit relay on the main line, there should be three or four going off at right angles."

"For land vehicle exploration?"

"Perhaps. Also, we really need the big dock here. Bear in mind that the Conduit team's third prototype can just barely accommodate an Alliance-issue Trident fighter, or a Kodiak shuttle. In nine weeks we'll be starting to produce the fourth generation in volume, it's still too big for a frigate but we should be able to get our gunships through."

"So we'll have a space link capability behind us back to Earth."

"Yes, Primarch. A limited one, but we should be able to fabricate conduits from local material, on board a converted dreadnought. Our generation-zero conduits had a range of only three hundred parsecs. We are doing better now, but still only at four hundred and eighty parsecs. On the other hand that represents an improvement of two orders of magnitude over the speed of FTL travel."

"Very well. If we downconvert a dreadnought, we should arrange for evacuation pods to be able to pass through too. If we can't fight what we encounter, we must run from it."

"That's wise, sir, but the risk is small. After the trashing of so much tech – and pirates don't keep shielded spares like properly organized warships – a frigate will be essentially invulnerable to anything fast enough to catch it."

"Very well. Any more bright ideas, Vakarian? People are already muttering about unproven brainstorms."

Despite the warning, Garrus couldn't help himself.

"Replace the fighter and frigate FTL cores with one of our own design that can disengage safeties. Equip with a VI and you have a an impact kinetic weapon that, given time and enough Casimir feed, would rival an asteroid hit."

"Preposterous."

Garrus sighed.

"Primarch, Tali tells me the humans are already discussing this in their research stations, and the general tenor is not _can_ we do this but _how quickly_."

"There has been nothing in the intelligence briefings."

"Riiiight. If you need motivation, just bear in mind that humans appear to have _no_ qualms about trying something new. Like opening mass relays. And we will be crossing space that we never opened relays to. What will we meet?"

Victus contemplated his general's stony gaze. "Alright, Garrus. I'll take a chance. On you and your quarian Admiral. When is she leaving?"

"She isn't. Three days ago they recovered a frigate with a working QEC pair back to Rannoch."

"Which means?"

"She can actually perform admiralty functions here on Earth. She can't do that in transit. She's staying here, for now."

"Oh. I'm happy to hear that. She has been a friend, and a useful one."

_You think _you're_happy_, thought Garrus, but carefully introduced the next item on the agenda.

"Primarch, we need to bring this to the attention of Hackett and his geth."

"Oh?"

"The news isn't awful, but it's pretty bad. _Every single_ geth hardware platform on Rannoch collapsed after the passage of the red flash."

"The geth are _extinct?!"_

"That's the report. And there has hardly been any flicker of their existence further afield."

"Nothing at all?"

"Just three, Primarch, _three_ geth distress signals have been picked up by QEC, several hundred parsecs apart. It's going to take years to recover them, not least because something like seventy percent of the quarian ground and fleet installations have been knocked out, they're struggling but so far improvisation has held starvation and mass deaths at bay."

"_Spirits_. Wait. Hackett's platoon of geth Primes –"

"– are intact, yes. Because he took shelter behind Arcturus. Also their combat ships. Those form the only substantial geth population we know of."

"I will inform the Council. You tell Hackett, first."

Monday, December 9, 2013 -3/3-


	19. Knots

**After Dark**

_Knots__, __and how to __untie__ them_

"... but the captain would not lay a beacon."

Tevos had read carefully the Justicar's summary as she listened to a verbal description of events leading up to the discovery Ardat-Yakshi in the vicinity of Arcturus. Now she looked up.

"Justicar, what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Take the _Destiny Ascension_, or some suitable force, and slag the planet when you find it. Or wipe out each individual one."

"Out of the question, from every perspective. There are several _thousand_ worlds within the search parameters. We cannot possibly spare the troops for individual action. We can't justify the destruction of a garden biosphere. And above all it would be mad folly to take any such precipitate action in the back yard of technologically advanced barbarians with whom we are currently not merely at peace, but actively friendly, who have offered us sanctuary."

"Councilor, I guarantee you the first action of the Salarians will be to find some way to exploit these beings against both ourselves and every other race. And they will undoubtedly find some way to fail spectacularly in ways that will make the Krogan rebellions look like mild family discipline."

Tevos rubbed her forehead. "You have a point. But it is _still _quite simply beyond acceptable behavior. I swear, humans can make the _batarians_ look civilised, when it comes to transgressing territorial boundaries, and we – the whole asari race – simply can't afford to alienate them at this point. Besides, it seems to me that in your zeal you have missed an essential point."

"And what might that be?"

"You are assuming the Salarians will get wind of this before we can find some resolution morally acceptable to both ourselves and the humans. And if they did get wind of it, that they would follow through."

"Why would they not?

"Because the only salarian crewmember on that ship died on Tuchanka. The only significant human officer with close contacts to other salarians of consequence, is dead. The humans have not been impressed with the behavior of the current dalatrass, and other salarian power centres are scrambling to mitigate her impact. The _turians_ have closer and more confidential relationships with the human power structures, at present, and we are a close second, thanks to yourself and Benezia's daughter."

"Liara. Yes. She was helpful in exploring the possible threats. She politely declined to discuss sanctions though, deferring to you."

"Entirely proper. Justicar, I decline to approve any such action as you propose. And yet it would be foolish to discount the threat. We do have a few years. Those creatures have been isolated there for millenia. Please consider my counter-proposal. You should travel to Thessia to meet with the republic archons."

"The old inter-republic institutions have been shattered."

"That is another reason for you to go. You represent legitimate authority, and I will reinforce that with this warrant." Tevos handed over a coppery holograph.

The VI threaded within the digital ink detected two viewers of facial markings indicating two different asari dialects, and for a second flickered between the two, until it properly divided the fields of view. Finally it settled on reflection interference patterns for two perspectives with each dialect displayed to the corresponding pair of eyes. Samara saw to her astonishment that she was now a council plenipotentiary to the republics.

"Councilor, I am no diplomat."

"I seem to recall a human named Shepard saying something similar."

"_He_ is no longer with us. I think. Treading his path is not lightly undertaken."

"What do you mean, 'I think?'"

"The current captain of the Normandy refuses to inscribe his name on a memorial until his official status changes from MIA, "_Missing In Action_" to KIA, "_Killed In Action_."

"I see. Perfectly understandable though. There was some controversy the first time he died, in 2183, when his Spectre status was revoked as normal after death. That was deeply embarrassing when he turned up two years later. So that's just normal circumspection."

"Madame Councilor, I'm not saying you're wrong. The Alliance authorities had declared Shepard killed in action later that year. There's no doubt about it, he was clinically dead. If the Council was in a difficult position, Shepard's legal situation was impossible for the Alliance authorities. Human civilization is not so long-lived that they have had precedent for such a thing –"

"– I prefer your Code, Justicar. You would have no such problem."

"No, madam, but on the other hand the Code does not provide for a trial at assizes, either. The Judge Advocate General couldn't charge him with any formal war crime for example. First, his genetic identity didn't establish that the mind in the body was guilty – a point highlighted by the recent Shepard Clone incident."

"Oh, yes. I do recall, that was fascinating for all asari lawyers. Civil trial for damages, who would pay?"

"Indeed. Or criminal trial for murder, who would receive penalty?"

"Fine. The clone was Shepard genetically, but Shepard was not the clone, so they could establish _actus reus _but not _mens rea, _I do take your point."

"Thank you Councilor, I had a professional interest in this too. Second there was black-letter law, statutes on the books which in effect prevent dead people being charged with a crime – the dead person would have to be triable in court under that identity, the procedural issues were insurmountable, and so forth."

"One reason your Code is not big on procedural issues, I dare say."

"It could have been worse. Shepard re-appeared just before another law kicked in which would have prevented his death certificate being revoked after three years."

"How amusing. Now I see why Hackett declared one of the few pleasures he could take from the whole business was watching the judiciary tie itself in knots, unquote."

"They truly do not seem to be able to improve their laws. That does not stop the grinding of 'justice', but it makes justice something of a lottery. One human acquaintance, Zaeed Massani, told me of a couple of famous cases."

"I have heard about your Mr Massani. Something of an expert in avoiding consequences."

"Perhaps. He is an efficient mercenary. He related tales from the early days of UNAS, back in the late 1990's Common Era. One man thought dead for eight years turned up back in his home town in Oklahoma, and the legal system refused to lift the declaration of death. On the other hand, around the same time in another part of UNAS, Louisiana, a legally dead man named Sanders killed two women, and was tried for their murder across multiple jurisdictions."

"So. One can imagine why the JAG officers never, ever would risk such a legal quagmire, however strong the circumstantial evidence. Again. We mustn't expect a death notice any time soon."

"But can I stress that Captain Williams said something like '_I'm not just covering my ass._' Which is a human phrase meaning –"

"I'm familiar with the English locution, Justicar."

"She means she really does not have any confidence in his being dead."

"Interesting. We must bear that in mind. But we have wandered from the point of the discussion."

"Councilor, my duty is clear, and I will do as you ask. But chaos reigns in some parts of Thessia now; there is no law, and I cannot threaten all malefactors with justice."

"Justicar, you have discussed this knotty matter with us calmly, responsibly, and effectively. That does convince me that you are the right person, not simply for the job of devising some resolution of the Ardat-Yakshi, but for reforming the Asari body politic."

Samara sighed. "Not everyone responds to calm. Perhaps Zaeed will come. He has been complaining about retirement being boring."

"Your mercenary. One of Shepard's team, no? That might be acceptable. Is this to be – how would Bailey put it – a good cop, bad cop scenario?"

"Perhaps if you could accredit a human liaison ..."

"We await your reports, eagerly. Entertainment of that order is hard to come by. Go to Thessia, Justicar. Deliver our chain of conduit relays. Deliver the law. And where you cannot deliver the law, deliver Mr Massani."

Monday, December 9, 2013 -4/4-


	20. Who pays the ferryman?

**After Dark**

_Trial and error_

Six weeks into reconstruction, Officer Hercules found the Cerberus camp. Or to be exact, the keepers did.

"Boss, I think I need a vacation."

"_You're such a comedian, Herk. Where would you go, Paris? Most of the important bits are still there. Don't go touristing in the catacombs, though." _

"No, seriously, I'm seeing things. A keeper just toddled past wearing a piece of helmet."

"_Happens fairly often, I saw one with a naval cap."_

"This was a white and gold helmet, boss."

"_I'll be there in five, follow that finagling keeper!"_

So Armando-Owen Bailey and a C-Sec detail including Herk followed the keeper when it went back for more. In the tunnels beneath what had been bay E24, they found a trail of food wrappers, medical splints and other paraphernalia, as well as discarded armor consumables leading to an atmosphere node. Beneath a pile of discarded armor was a hatch ...

* * *

_Jenny_

_They could hear someone coming. Burt took point by the door, __with a depleted rifle stock as an improvised club. Tom and Dick tried to stop him but by now hadn't the energy, and shrank back in the dark with the others. _

_Didn't really care anymore. They had come to the end of the supplies, the end of the power modules, and the end of the road. __What a miserable existence it had been. At least the overriding buzz had gone. The pain was back, but they could think again. _

_She could see the hatch pop open by the light of Burt's eyes. Burt took a swing at the cop who jumped down, but the stock was grabbed from the open hatch by an arm, hauling Burt's head up. There was a TOCK and Burt fell down through that hatch again, still struggling, the first cop plastered him against a wall and slugged him again. _

"_All right, you bastard. Now you're going to tell me where the hell you came from."_

_There was a garbled choking noise._

"_And who the hell _are_ you, for starters?" _

_Burt just got out his first name when his face blew off. _

* * *

_Bailey_

"Admiral, we have a situation. I'm looking at a nest of frightened Cerberus troops, some dead, about four left now ... but when I questioned one his face exploded. It was a mess ... I can take out the rear of the atmosphere node and blast them to vacuum but –"

...

"Yes, Commander. I've told them _I_ won't harm them, but they just say their implants will kill them and I've heard something about this. I don't think they all trust me anyhow ..."

...

"No, Doctor, I don't have any former Cerberus personnel. We cleaned house after the coup. I gave references for the ones I could trust to Massani and the Alliance recruitment office, three or four actually were accepted and the rest joined Cat6, I certainly don't have anyone now."

...

"All right, ma'am, standing by."

* * *

_Dick_

_The cop hadn't budged from the hatchway. But he had shoved ration packs over and Tom had bolted them down. The others were more cautious, but finished faster than they had started. _

_Then there was water. He began to feel much happier, and a little sleepy. Food will do that. They were beginning to doze. They'd still die, of course. Just not quite yet._

_It was a funny old universe. Getting on for a year ago, now, he'd been coming back from the greatest imaginable adventure. He'd fought the reaper creatures with Tom, hopeless but it had delayed them, so the commander still had the ship, he'd picked them up, just in time, and a handful of the Horizon colonists too. The others were gone. But they were alive. No crew left behind. _

_That wouldn't be happening this time. Cerberus was done, and so were they. All that remained was the bleeding._

_He'd stood with Tom and Vadim clearing debris from the Oculus rift in the hull, welding patches, and they'd looked up and caught each others eye, while the incandescent gas rushed past. They were Cerberus spacemen, repairing a hero ship in FTL; they had met the four corners of the universe in arms, and rocked them. So must sailors have felt on the Victory, repairing sail on the way home from the Nile._

_It was a good memory. They'd die today, but everyone died. They'd nonetheless saved the world._

_After half an hour, noises above the hatch. A bag was caught by the cop. A doctor in an old Cerberus uniform came down. Things were a little hazy, but it looked like ..._

_Jenny_

"_Crewman Jenny Goldstein."_

"_Ma'am? Oh. Doctor, is that you?"_

"_You appear to have been in the wars."_

"_Er, yes. Sorry, no ma'am, we missed that. We were assigned specially to Mr Harper, ma'am."_

"_Terribly thoughtful of him."_

"_Yes, ma'am. 'Keep your friends close,' he said, ma'am."_

"_How very in character. Tell me, Jenny, can I approach to wipe your eyes? Without setting off Mr Harper's happy little fireworks?"_

"_O Yes, ma'am, _you_ can. Just keep the others away please, ma'am."_

"_Will do, Jenny, for as long as we need to. I think I should give you a little more sedative, while I get you to the sick bay. Will your implants let you sleep without exploding, Jenny? Any of you?"_

"_Yes, Doctor." "Yes, ma'am." "I think so, Doctor. I don't feel bad about it."_

"_I have an assistant here, Jenny –"_

"_NO ma'am, no assistant ple – Oh. Hello, miss."_

"_Hello, Jenny. We'll get you home soon."_

"_Home, miss?"_

"_She means the Normandy med bay, Mr Hawthorne, if that is acceptable."_

"_Yes, Doctor."_

"_You first, Jenny, we'll help your environment suit on, then you can help us with the others. We'll open the back of the atmosphere node. It's easier than getting you through the tunnels."_

* * *

_Pay the ferryman_

"We can't keep them on this ship."

"We have to keep them on _some_ ship. This will do for a day or two."

Ashley gave the Admiral her best scowl.

"These people have been subjected to Cerberus indoctrination."

"We at least know how that was done. Padok Wiks believes it's reversible."

"... All right. I'm glad to have _Chakwas_ back, at least."

"For a little while."

"I've been hearing things about her assistant."

"_She_ is here for therapeutic purposes."

"Hers or the kids?"

"Yes."

"If she's around, where's –"

"– Don't ask."

"I see. You're taking them both away, aren't you?"

"You and your crew have to be able to stand before the Council and say '_no-one told me anything_' without lying, Commander."

"Very well. I want Padok Wiks then, or Chloe Michel."

"You can't have Chloe."

"I _see_. Let me think, I still have Allers' extranet details somewhere –"

"You wouldn't."

"Maybe not, ma'am, but you would be _amazed_ what certain commanding officers would do for their ships."

"You can have Wiks. Soon. After he has figured out the reversal of at least Cerberus indoctrination. And had time to tell some of the Huerta staff."

"Why, thank you ma'am. That will be acceptable. Longer term, what are your intentions for these poor people?"

"It's still forming. If those pesky fleshy flashbangs are eliminated, we have options."

"Such as?"

Hannah leaned forward.

"Miranda's expedition to Grunt's Nest."

Ashley contemplated that prospect.

"Nice. If it can be done. But that's six months to a year away. We don't even know it exists. And it'll last two years."

"Good point. She'll need something like the _Normandy_."

"You're not taking away –"

"– No, we're not. I'm officially confirming you in command. The turian fabrication dock will have produced six of the class by this time next month. We get three."

"Jeezus! Where did you get the eezo? Charon Relay?"

"Something like that. There were a lot of dead ships in orbit."

"Well they can't have the ship name."

"Miranda has dibs on _Overlord_."

"Heh. Sometimes that woman's like her father, in spades. At least they should feel right at home. Shanghai'd on a one-way voyage."

"Saving the world."

Saturday, December 14, 2013 -5/5-


	21. It's something to do with the night

**After Dark**

_There's nothing that I know of in Rio_

Seven weeks post-Reapers the SSV _Normandy_ settled to the blackened lawn. This was a little risky, and Joker had the core on idle, reducing some of the weight strain.

_Normandy's_ airlock hissed open; Williams and Vega stepped into the sunlight and took in the dusty mob moving to a freighter in the middle distance.

They were in front of the ICA school, located in an old barracks suburb (Vila Militar) of what had once been the Brazilian capital. Rio de Janeiro was now a town of departed memories; ghosts of persons and buildings. The Alliance had claimed it for themselves as an Earthly _pied-__à__-terre_.

The N7 "Villa" had not been a house so much as a 'village', a whole series of barracks interspersed with substantial structures dating back almost to the Portugese South American colony.

"_Look_ at those sad sacks."

The major administrative buildings still stood. There was a crowd of some two thousand prisoners, men, women, _and children_ shuffling to a freighter in the middle distance.

Hardly any of the military village's structures remained intact. Most were downright skeletal. Exceptions included a major _Presidio_ in the area which served as a prison. No bodies littered the corridors. One of the first acts of indoctrinated local authorities had been to release all the prisoners ... into the care of the Reapers, not to join the general flight inland. After a rapid sorting process that would have put Eichmann to shame, every last inmate had been either husked or pasted ... to use the developing terminology ... and that had not even been controversial among the city's middle classes. How little they had understood what was coming for them.

Brazil had suffered greatly from overpopulation and Rio's _favelas_ had been the stamping ground of a local urban warfare training school. "Red Sand" interdiction operations with the local Brazilian army had been a particularly dangerous counterinsurgency exercise for Alliance soldiers over the past half-century. The fact was that Brazilian society had, like many others, stratified into haves and have-nots that earlier generations would have found hard to credit (but which would have been very familiar to denizens of eighteenth-century Europe).

Reaper operations first collected low-hanging fruit – high-density urban populations like Rio. Following '_negotiations_' with Reaper '_representatives_' aboard a Reaper capital ship, those in charge actually found significant public support for endorsing Reaper operations in the slums. Citizens with a sense of European history fled to the slowly regenerating Amazonia. On foot. They didn't penetrate far.

A week later, three hundred slaughterships landed on the outskirts of Rio. This was unusual; Rio was nearly the first city to suffer so intense an execution. Most others to which Reapers paid such terminal attention were simply nuked. The detailed selection suggested the Reapers were looking for individuals. In any event, after three more weeks nearly all the remaining thirty million inhabitants were 'processed,' under the supervision of those same Reaper 'representatives,' who were in their turn 'liquidated' – a term with an unpleasantly literal new meaning.

By that time, most of the indoctrinated authorities had been moved on to other cities as the new 'representatives,' later exterminated in their turn. These families were the residue. Those who still lived wanted nothing further to do with them. They couldn't really run anywhere; being in chains made a point.

The Alliance military did not have anything to do with the earthside policy of the emerging national governments, mostly dictatorships. So far, Hackett had intervened directly only twice, where the new leadership's behavior was so bad that they exhausted the patience of the electorate almost at once. In particular, the admiralty did not halt wholesale 'cleansing' operations, like these bedraggled collaborators, either. In fact, they could not. Even Hackett had no formal municipal authority – nor the troops to enforce his will.

What he _could_ do was declare military law in a suitable area, and bear witness. Hence the presence of the _Normandy's_ crew.

"Where are they going, Ash?" Vega had finished unloading his 'junk.' A little scout car was approaching from the remains of the N-school. That would be his taxi. A reaper harvester had performed a pro-forma destruction of the superstructure ... but nearly all the N-school was below ground, including the transport garage.

Ashley sighed and pondered her answer. Dr Wiks and Kirrahe stepped out of the Normandy's hatch, Wiks carrying the little device Mordin had called a 'canary' – essentially a remote 'taint of indoctrination' detector of tell-tale changes in neural oscillations, specifically (in humans) the gamma and hippocampal theta waves so important in long-term potentiation.

"To start with, they're a labor force for rebuilding Arcturus station. Then they're de-indoctrination guinea pigs, those who signed on, anyway."

Vega couldn't take his eyes off the crowd. He suspected Hackett, or possibly Admiral Shepard, was not telling them everything.

"We can trust them with tools, huh?"

Williams idly contemplated the engineers' release of zippy little videodrones.

"Something like that. The worst of them, those who collaborated _before_ going inside the reaper, are going somewhere Coats wouldn't talk about."

Coats was an Alliance bigwig who advised Hackett, by now. Among other things, when tinpot Caesars tried to set up intelligence agencies, he subverted them, beginning with bugging the lavatories.

"That's crap, Williams."

Ashley silently nodded. She wanted no part of such things. For example, Coats, Kirrahe, and that Lawson woman kept tabs on all the local mafias. Ashley _suspected_ judicious holes were being made in the power structures every so often, but couldn't prove it. Garrus, however, apparently approved of certain messages being sent.

"All in good time, Coats said."

Ashley did not tell Vega that Hannah _had_ told her the collaborators' ultimate destination, in confidence, when she refused point-blank to be involved otherwise. The ones who collaborated from the outset had been given choices. Astonishingly, most took the guinea pig option. The possibilities offered included registration as test subjects of advanced salarian indoctrination deprogramming techniques; a firing squad, or delivery to local tribunals –

"_What could the local tribunals do that's worse than a bullet?"_

"_Don't ask, Commander. You should speak to Samara about what she's seen."_

"_No, ma'am, she was a bit miffed with me. Her code and mine conflicted. She left yesterday, anyway."_

A few could be distinguished in the crowd. Nearly bald, but with a neat surgery scar all the way around the cranium. Every last one was now carrying a hybrid device, combining graybox and bluebox. Essentially, they were all equipped with a cybernetic conscience, partly plated to the interior of the skull, partly hard-implanted. And it was a monitor, it could report back. Williams grimaced. Maybe these dregs could be useful, but what an unholy synthesis. There but for the grace of God ...

"Ahoy, _Normandy_!" That was the new N commandant pulling up. Good.

"Well, time to zip, James. Listen up. You've done things in the wrong order, you're already past the N6 requirements. This is where we see if you can do the N4 and 5. Do well in this and you will actually have learned your tattoo."

"So long, Curves. I expect to see you here someday."

"Don't call me that in public. And N5 is not going to happen, N4 was too bloody tough, especially the language bits. If that's what it takes to be a soldier, I'm not _that_ good."

"That's crap, C – Commander."

Ashley grinned, and kissed him full on the lips.

"Do me proud, big boy. Go now."

Saturday, December 14, 2013 -3/3-


	22. Tinker, Taylor, Soldier

**After Dark**

_Tinker, Taylor, Soldier_

The doctor and the hard-faced Alliance soldier might not want to kill him, but Hawthorne could feel he was about to tip over. _Here I go, cardiac arrest._

"Right, stop. Don't collapse, lad, tread lightly in place, walk around."

" _(Heave) _Yes, _(Heave) _sir." What was this all about? All Chakwas had said was, _'Do anything he asks, without exception. Try for me, would you.' _Which had been easy _(Heave) _to agree to at the time, _but _ expiring on a gym treadmill had not been remotely foreseeable _(Heave) _.

On the other hand, top of his list of 'Ways I'm most likely to go' was 'Don't do what Chakwas says.'

None of them could go off the ship. The hatred and fear of Cerberus troopers worldwide was painfully obvious. And, to start with at least, they only had to look in a mirror to be reminded of why.

"Seen enough, Mr Coats?"

"Thank you, yes, Mr Wiks, the RFL is satisfactorily exceeded. Have all the implants been excised?"

"I've left one in. There's a VI for gym training while the brain's asleep. They've been doing four hours a night. Hence the required fitness level being met so fast."

"Well ... is that likely to be a problem?"

"It's been useful during recovery, but it'll be removed tomorrow, at the same time as the last cosmetic changes. There can be no dreaming while the VI is running, which creates psychological instability in the medium term."

The salarian turned to Hawthorne and said, "Has Dr Chakwas told you the _tapetum lucidum_ will be removed also? That will degrade your enhanced night vision slightly."

"No sir. She just said she'd look after us."

"Hm. A little short on detail. But perhaps for the best. Mr Coats, are you quite finished?"

"One more. The firing range."

"Very well, Coats. I lay them in your charge till you return."

"Thank you, doctor. Lady and gentlemen, fall in. _By the right ..._"

* * *

"Pistol now, twenty metres."

Goldstein took two steps to the bench, picked up the N7 Eagle and with automatic hand clicked in a new clip, _"Weapon unsafe"_, one more pace to the firing step.

"Target left, Eight rounds rapid, begin."

_PowPowPowPowPowPowPowPow._

"_Weapon safe."_

For the fourth and last time, Coats brought his pistol target set back for viewing. The central bull had been obliterated.

"That's ... impressive, Ms Goldstein. And a little unexpected."

Hadley piped up. "That's not Cerberus, sir. That's just Jenny."

"Who taught you to shoot, Ms – Jennifer?"

"My father, sir."

"That would be, let's see, Master Sergeant Goldstein of the Patricias."

"Yessir."

"Much is explained. Very well. Fall in ... At ease."

Coats favored them with a meditative stare. "A wholly inordinate amount of time has been expended on you by persons who do not have a lot of time. I think we should proceed to the next phase."

"Next phase, sir? Is that release?"

"You are technically a civilian. At request you could be landed earthside and answer to the civilian authorities ... I see this is not your desire. But I am not your superior officer, Matthews. You need not call me Sir. My name is James Coats. You may call me Mr Coats if you wish."

"Yessir." Coats grinned internally. My, how fast this little batch was learning.

"You are about to meet a former colleague, a man of some influence. You will be aware that you are presently on evaluation for pardon. Do not fail him."

"Yessir. Who is this person, sir?"

Coats tapped his ear and said, "_Jacob, we are ready for you._" The firing range door opened and a familiar figure walked through. Goldstein stiffened ramrod-straight and sensed the others do likewise.

"There is a Spectre in-system to rubber-stamp Council ratification of the decision of the Admiral in this matter. She, however, has deferred to the human Councilor to approve any such pardon. _He_ has delegated the matter to me. I have not, so far, found a good reason to deny ratification, but I will leave that decision to Mr Taylor here. Jacob." Coats and Taylor shook hands. Coats stepped back two paces.

"Any questions?"

"Yes, Mr Taylor, Sir. Can we go home?"

"Not quite yet, Matthews, we do not wish to cause a riot. From tomorrow, I am told, that _may_ be an option. But under the circumstances, I have arranged for your homes to come to you, in about a week."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Don't thank me, it wasn't my idea. In any event, given the current sensitivity, great clanging hints have been dropped in front of me that you may wish to hire with a certain mercenary company. It will be spending the next five years, proper time, on a mission for the Council. You will be spending most of that time in cold sleep, hence the approved visit of your families. I'm told the pay is superlative."

"Would we stay together, Sir?"

"That, Matthews, is the general idea."

More unspoken words passed.

"We will do as you suggest, sir."

"Very well. Be advised that the nominal leader of the party in question is a former Alliance soldier named Toombs who had until recently a pronounced negative attitude to all things Cerberus." There was general unease at this.

"However, certain events involving his major client, one Miranda Lawson, have brought about a sea-change. The mercenaries in question are now a mixed bunch. Some former alliance, some former Cerberus who got out _before_ the attempted Citadel coup, and at least one former Cat6 pilot who trained with the Alliance Navy."

"Lawson, Sir?"

"That Lawson, yes, Hadley. Now fabulously rich following the death of her father, as I understand it. Hence the ability to contract a group of mercenaries. Do you have any qualms about working under Ms Lawson, any of you?"

"No, sir. Not if you say so."

"It is not your only option, folk. You could hire on with the Alliance. I believe there are people in high places who would have you. Or, you could accept new identities and live ordinary lives. I've settled down. It's far from a bad thing, if one has the right motivation."

They all looked at one another. They had never shared the joint consciousness of the White Guard, but mutual understanding was quasi-instantaneous.

"We'll take Lawson, Sir."

Saturday, December 14, 2013 -3/3-


	23. Dark seas

**After Dark**

_Anglerfish_

The Councilor formerly known as Ambassador Osoba gazed at the military representatives below.

"Admiral Hackett, why must we lose you in particular? This ... voyage to dark space. As an Alliance initiative it is already alarming. Taking some of your asari commandos and turian troops makes it Council business."

"Simply put, councilors, I will be at Arcturus, not with the N-chain Task Force. Might I commend Lieutenant-Colonel Sir James Coats, as he now is, as liaison with the Alliance?"

"That is still rather too far for comfort. There have been occasions when your presence made the difference between a riot and a massacre. And Coats is ... not a comfortable choice."

"He is senior, has the confidence of at least some of the Earthside authorities, and is demonstrably competent to resolve disputes. I only have a limited number of such officers. Would you prefer Mikhailovich?"

"Which one?"

"Piotr is available. Boris heads the Dark Space expedition."

"Piotr. That would be the man who slung the mayor of Moscow naked by his feet from the barrel of a Mako and made him walk on his hands across Red Square. Taking pictures."

"Yes, Councilor. I believe he and Coats get along quite well."

"_Must_ you go?"

"While I might remain here, it is a bad idea for the civil authority on a planet to be seen to rely on active intervention by the military for an extended period of time."

"Like the somewhat unexpected re-emergence of the British royal family?"

"That is an internal matter for the United Kingdom, including Scotland and Wales, and certain of the overseas realms. Though I note that Coats, in his capacity as an officer of the Coldstream Guards, did the bidding of his monarch in suppressing the Mosleyite tendency."

"Suppressing. Is that the right word for pushing half the parliament out the back of a transport over the sea?"

"To be exact, councilor, one hundred metres off Brighton pier. Though the honorable members could not see land from where they departed the transport's loading hatch."

"It was a swimming lesson then?"

"Coats believed there was a point to be made about reserved powers, councilor. And another about how the military saw the issue of legitimacy."

"A somewhat extravagant demonstration."

"No-one actually died, councilor. Unlike similar measures a few centuries previously. Although if broadcast news is reliable, some members of the judiciary were so apoplectic that hospitalization was necessary."

"I have seen that, er, rationale. And that the entire legal profession is under threat of deregistration. Your departure might not be so desirable to politicians like myself, given the existence of men like those on offer."

"Councilor, you were a career diplomat, before you were ever a politician. The UK faces unique problems with indoctrination. I have discussed this with my staff, and we agree it would be best to allow some of the national arrangements to grow without us overshadowing their authority."

"Nonetheless, we need your input for space-borne initiatives also, not least Citadel reconstruction."

"For consultation, we do have the QECs. And we have delayed leaving till our fab ships will be laying frigate-capable conduit relays, which should permit both a rapid return of certain staff should it be necessary, and the founding of new colonies to relieve pressure on the Citadel and on Earth."

"Such colonies will require Council approval."

"Indeed, councilor."

"Including the proposed planet of Mosley-A. Barely a garden world."

"Yes, councilor. It does have some reasonably temperate land around the equator."

"I had the impression that this was an obscure form of threat."

"You would have to ask the Lieutenant-Colonel about that, Councilor. I have heard him call it less of a threat, more of a promise. Another kind of message, really."

"How droll."

Tevos spoke for the first time. "Justicar Samara had a suggestion, Admiral. Hannah Shepard is very senior, bears a famous name and has achieved good results in mediation. She also has a very respectable battle record. Can we not have her at hand? If not here, then on Earth?"

Now Hackett looked very uncomfortable indeed. "I had hoped to keep Admiral Shepard with me at Arcturus."

"We realize this might impose a _personal _dilemma –"

_Damn the woman_, thought Hackett, _she's blackmailing me. I can't allow that. _ Well, he and Hannah had known this moment might come.

"Not at all, Councilor. It will be difficult to part with such a competent tactician, but we are not currently engaged in conflict. Admiral Shepard would be suitable and I will make her available."

The look on Tevos' face could only be described as _shock_. Valern, too, seemed taken aback. _Put that in your pipe and smoke it. There's a lot more going on than the STG realizes._

Sparatus resumed the inquisition. "We return to the remaining point at issue. Is the fact of one of the Alliance fleets being several years travel time away – "

"– two years, Councilor Sparatus."

"Two years, then. Is that another subtle form of message?"

"Hardly, councilors. The crew will be in cold sleep, except for rotating watch officers, nearly all of the time. Revivification takes around two days to minimize the risks of awakening from cold sleep, for humans. It would be nearly a week before a properly thoughtful response to emergency can be given, from up to twelve thousand light years away. And then, the whole fleet can't pass through the conduits, only frigates at most. Someone on the spot will have to make such decisions."

"It does not help that most of the remaining Earth fleets are with you at Arcturus."

"There is a great deal of rebuilding to do there, councilor, but we anticipate the return of two fleets after two more years. And they are only two days travel away, in emergency."

Tevos spoke again. "We do still have the citadel fleet, Admiral. We will cope. Does it not bother you that aliens have local military superiority?"

"For some reason I would find difficult to articulate, Councilor, the prospect does not fill me with dread. Particularly since the local commanders include Coats, Mikhailovich, and now, of course, Shepard."

The four Councilors looked at each other. Tevos nodded.

"Very well Admiral. The whole exercise seems pointless. But we have regretted not giving our support before. We approve. The colony too."

"Councilors, all I can do is repeat the words of Urdnot Wrex. Freely translating: _'Until you have burned the nest, you have only scotched the snake.'_ "

"What exactly do you think you might find?"

"We are expecting traps of some kind. There will be an advance reconnaissance with two cloaked _Normandy_-class frigates, one advancing while the other scans. The Fifth fleet will be only days behind that. We expect to find Reaper remnants. Perhaps active ones."

"But you feel you must determine what is in dark space."

"Yes. It is not guaranteed that we will prevail. If the worst comes to the worst, we should be able to describe what we met by QEC before the expedition is scattered. And the frigates will close the relays inbound as they pass through back to Earth."

"How do you know where to go?"

"By extrapolation of the timing of the route that Reapers had to adopt to enter Batarian space, after failing at the Citadel and the Alpha Relay. We actually can decrypt Reaper communications now. Since the late stages of the war, Asari commandos have been able to anticipate their movements. Captured remnants of Reaper cores have given more precision. There is a region of space, a cube of some fifty light years, we need to cover."

"That is a huge volume, Admiral."

"We are optimistic that if we do our job right _they_, whatever's there, will find us. Or at least, part of us."

Saturday, December 14, 2013 -4/4-


	24. Chain Link Home

**After Dark**

_N__-1_

The skeleton of a new Arcturus station lay before them as _Kilimanjaro_ slowly came to a stop, its nose ten metres from the surface of the S-2 moonlet. The N-1 conduit relay would be attached to an altazimuth mount rising from the thin regolith.

"Here's my stop," said Tali. "I'm tuning this new one, over the next few hours, then catching the next frigate back to Earth."

"Whoa. What are we looking at? I thought we'd be on an iron bubble or in space."

Free-space relays existed, but asteroid-mounting allowed for ground vehicles equipped with a small manoeuvering eezo core to pass through and stop at the station.

"No, Ash. Haven't got the recipe right yet. This is an ordinary chondritic asteroid. Gravity is weak, but sufficient to keep a maintenance station stable."

Engineers had experimented with forming an iron asteroid bubble, by delving to the core of a nickel-iron asteroid, depositing a liquid argon core, tamping and plugging the hole, then sending it in a close elliptical orbit around the sun. On emergence from the searing blast, instabilities meant only one in five formed a true bubble, and quite non-spherical at that. Better results were hoped for eventually, but for now a roughly spherical solid asteroid would serve to mount conduit-relays.

"We need a maintenance shed for each relay?"

"Not usually. These are new and a bit experimental. The sixth-generation is not just big enough to carry a frigate, Garrus' team also figured out why that stupid thousand-light-year limit was happening"

"So there's longer range."

"Yup. Basically, the wormhole pairs weren't synchronized properly by the QEC."

"So, let's see, we've suddenly got the same sort of range as the Protheans had from Ilos to the Citadel."

"Yup again, nearly a galactic diameter."

"Kilimanjaro will make the N-2 on the way to the next stop, about six kilolights away, which I gather is about the last actual planetary system before you go out of the galactic plane and have to use rogue planets to discharge the drive cores. "

"Right again. Which means by the way that although we have plenty of conduit-relay range, _Kilimanjaro_ will still have to stop off every couple of days at some rogue gas giant and dezap the drive core. Or she could trail a five-thousand kilometre long wire net for a few hours, but that's not fun."

"So where's the S-2 conduit-relay we just came through?"

"S-2's mounted on the far side of the asteroid from N-1. Conduit-relays are oriented so as to allow incoming frigates like the _Normandy _wormhole entry from space, but S-2 would have already been behind you as you came out."

The _Normandy _had come through S-2 a few hours before, but of course the instant it dropped out of the wormhole, S-2 was only visible in Joker's rear vidcam.

"That mounting looks steerable."

"Yep. Just suppose some unfriendly power gain access to the E-1 conduit in geosynchronous orbit around Earth, or the R-1 conduit in Rio, or the S-1 conduit on Pluto."

"Let me guess. You flip the conduit so they bury themselves."

"Yup. We don't advertise it. But the maintenance station would change the orientation so that, say, an incoming Oculus or a Collector frigate would impact the asteroid surface at conduit-relay engagement speeds, typically five hundred kilometres an hour."

"Quarians have evil minds."

"It was Kenneth's idea, Ash."

The gaping fab doors slowly revealed Tali's new N-1 conduit-relay, quickly detached by drones and guided to the mounting point where techs waited.

"So long, guys."

"See you, Tali. Probably not soon."

"I know. Keep well." And she entered the airlock. It took half a minute to cycle, then Ash saw Tali skip slowly to the station hatch ten metres away.

"All right, Joker. Let's go get Hannah and her "comm specialist" from the Orizaba."

"So we're taking Hannah to Adelaide, then Hobart, right? Why isn't Kelly her Yeoman? Why are we the taxi?"

"She's going to be Hannigan, again again, definitely not appearing in any photo-ops, and you know she's still a bit queasy about warships."

"She'll get over it."

"Maybe. Anyway, our Hannigan will be on some remote Pacific island while Hannah zips around."

"And we're the glorified taxi? Come _on._"

"I suspect Hackett doesn't want to expand the circle of those who might know something. We're taking them to Tasmania first, because some turian wants to check on her. Then someplace east, in the Pacific. There's a whole bunch of people he wants far from media attention, so we're taking Brynn Cole to work on generating a grid soliton –"

"– They'll both be popping babies together."

"Shush. Loose lips sink ships. We're taking Gavin Archer there too, doing AI personality research. Also Anne Bryson, continuing work on Leviathan indoctrination."

"And I bet Mom Shepard suddenly develops a consuming interest in all those."

"Shush!"

"Nothing to do with grandchildren, oh no."

"_Moreau__!_"

"Okay, okay, dammit, I just need to vent about being a taxi driver."

"Shut up and soldier, sailor. I'm going to check on that evil genius Donnelly and his minions."

"Minion, singular. Or is Donnelly _her_ minion?"

"Shush."

Thursday, December 19, 2013 -3/3-


	25. Separation Anxiety

**After Dark**

_Matchmaker_

The private message terminal noticed her presence and bing-bonged at her. Kahlee swore she'd get around to muting it … later. Then she noticed the flashing green _priority _signal. Oh dear.

It was, indeed a note from Hackett's staff advising that her orders had been cut transferring her from _Orizaba _to _Overlord_. At last! She composed a quick acknowledgment, ordered a coffee, poured a whisky, and waited. It took eight minutes.

"_Sanders!_"

"Jack?"

"Did you know about this?"

"Sit down, Jack, have a drink, here. Could you be a little more specific?"

"They're sending some of the kids to battle! With Lawson! On another _Normandy!_"

"You're thinking of _Overlord_, Miranda's new _turian_-built duplicate. I know _I'm _going, my orders just arrived. It's formally a Normandy-class frigate, but there are minor differences. There's only one _Normandy,_ Jack."

"Whatever. They're sending my best kids!"

"The kids are ready, Jack. At least, Prangley, Rodriguez, and Merizan. The Bellarmines are catching up."

"_Without me!_"

"Ah." Kahlee put on a thoughtful expression. "Well, I can sort of understand why. Don't you two have history?"

"Yes! I mean, no! Nothing serious!"

"I think I heard Hannah Shepard saying Jack would never serve under Miranda. That's probably part of it."

"_Arrrgh!" _

"Was she wrong?"

Jack didn't answer at once. She sat, put her elbows on her knees, and her forehead in her hands, then: "Sanders, _please_. Do something."

"Let me think." Sanders got up, picked up her coffee, and looked out her viewport for a few seconds. "Well … I can see two problems – Jack, that drink's for you. Try it."

Jack unbent. Looked at the glass. Took a sip. "Hey, what is this stuff?"

"Islay scotch. From Donnelly. After I wangled leave for him and Gabby."

"Okay. Someone was wanting a dirty weekend?"

"I think they both were."

"Why don't they get married and have kids? Hey, this stuff has a kick. I can feel it doing me harm. More, please."

"Here … something about orange and green, I must have missed something there. Also, they'd be posted apart."

"Stupid fleet regs. That's gotta change."

"Maybe not. It's why Shepard had a mother, instead of no parents at all."

"Oh." Jack had mellowed a little now, was pensive. "Sanders, don't shit me, can you get them back?"

"I don't think so. Coats asked for them, specifically. Actually, he also asked for _you_. But Miranda said 'bad idea', and … well, the brass agreed."

"Dammit, we get along now! Sort of. I try not to call her names and she says she's trying not to be snarky."

"_Really?_ When did this happen?"

"Since forever! Well actually it started at that final wingding at yours and Anderson's place, after Shepard creeped us both out … you don't want to know."

"Anderson gave that apartment to Shepard."

"Yeah, that's a crock, nobody signed anything, and for real estate there has to be a writing. I tried to have another party there. Hackett said no, he's the executor of Anderson's estate and he says it's a major asset. Shep's not around to dispute it. He wouldn't anyway."

"It's still in one piece?"

"I think so. Ask about it."

_That _was a surprise. Kahlee perked up. Perhaps there was something left of David. "Moving on. I'd have to convince both of you to work together."

"Look, I can work with Miranda, okay?"

"On _her_ ship? Would you take orders?"

Jack's face twisted. Kahlee knelt beside her and looked up; there were tears. Damn. "Jack. Jennifer Cypher. I have to know, from you, that it's OK to speak to Miranda."

"Suppose she does some silly stunt and gets the kids killed?"

"That's not how chain of command works. She would ask _you_ to do something with your team. You might die with them. That's a military risk."

"Well … I could do that."

"Besides, as I understand it, she has her own 'kids'. So she'd understand how you feel."

Jack looked interested.

"Coats asked for her rather special people too. You might have known them. Cerberus crew on the _Normandy."_

"How come Miranda got involved with them? She's not the sentimental type."

"They were Shepard's crew while she was XO, remember. They got picked up on the Citadel during the coup then implanted, indoctrinated, and pressed into service with the Illusive Man till he died."

"That miserable f … fool made husks of them?"

"He would have said 'improved'. He died. They didn't, and his power was broken. They hid for weeks, starving slowly. They couldn't surrender because of the suicide chip in their brains that would have killed them. Chakwas got wind of them, dressed up in her old uniform, and convinced them the sick bay of the _Normandy _wasn't a surrender. When they woke up, the chip didn't wake up with them."

"That woman is _so _cool."

"She had to call in some favors. Now Miranda says she can't ever repay her. That might be a way in for you. With your kids. I'll see what I can do."

"Pleeeeeze!"

"It could take me a while. Chakwas and Wiks have only just finished reversing Harper's mods."

"Can we trust them?"

"The hard part was the indoctrinated brain paths, but the Alliance picked up Jana - the neurologist who headed the team responsible. Harper betrayed them, too, and she provided tech details. Between her and Wiks, they've set about depowering and removing the implants, but a lot of the motor coordination and imprinted reflexes are still there."

"That's not comforting."

"Miranda says the kids' old personalities are coming through again, but she's saying the most _vile_ things about Harper."

"... Maybe she's learned something."

"She actually said, and I quote, '_I should have listened to Jack._' Look, she's meeting me at the new docking bay where _Overlord _is fitting out. You want to come?"

Friday, December 20, 2013 -3/3-


	26. Overlord and ladies

**After Dark**

_Overlord_

Jack walked to the dock gate, with deliberate step, five of her biotic team from Grissom behind her.

Miranda stood with arms folded by the dock gate. One SR-2 duplicate close to them was in colors close to those of _Normandy _itself. There was an actinic blue cast to the surface of a second _Normandy_-class frigate at an adjacent dock. Almost Alliance colors. Jack and her retinue came abreast.

"Miri? Is that blue one _Overlord?_"

Miranda looked up, leaned against a support column, and casually asked: "_Miri?_ Why call me that?"

"Not sure." Jack responded, looking a little confused. "It trips off the tongue better, especially since I'm hung over."

Miranda sighed. "All right. It's not important. And no, that's Garrus' new ship, _Peacemaker_. Ours is the white one nearest us." The far gate opened. "Hey, here comes Sanders."

Four ex-Cerberus crew formed up behind a familiar blonde woman, and began to approach their ship. Jack's eyes narrowed.

"Their eyes are bruised."

"Jack, I know they still have sort of raccoon eyes. We're working on it. Don't let it fool you. They're not Cerberus any more, but they're very close-knit, and happier with people they know. Who don't spit on them."

Now it was _Jack_ who leaned against a support: "Back off a bit and fall in, guys."

She scanned the dock for strangers and examined the junior crew in the background, discreetly. "I see Goldstein ... Hawthorne ... two I don't recall the names of, but I know them."

"Good eyes. When we picked them up there were some dead, from the security detail – the ones left are Goldstein, Matthews, Hadley, and Hawthorne. The Illusive Man apparently took a personal interest in them."

"That sucks lemons. Goldstein I liked. She was kinda pretty, in a no-nonsense ponytail sort of way. How long did he have them?"

"Too long. We haven't dared strip out _all_ the implants, yet. So far we've clipped the indoctrination bridges and anything which would show on bare skin."

"Well, _Dayum_. At least their eyes aren't glowing any more."

"You're right, it's a stupid mod, only marginally worth it. Terrible psychologically but the Illusive Man didn't care. They've all had to grow up very fast. Matthews used to be callow and Hawthorne was a smartass, but they had the highest IQs on the crew, except for Patel. Hadley at least will make a good leader of men one day. Not sure what Harper saw in Goldstein, but she's no dummy."

Nodding thoughtfully, Jack turned back. She motioned her five students to come forward, and addressed them in a low voice:

"Okay, team leaders, listen up you'll need to relay this to your squads. You are about to meet some crew a few years older than you who used to be Cerberus. They look a little creepy. They still bear the scars."

"They're not as off-putting as they were," muttered Miranda.

Sanders drew up. "Good morning, Jack. Miranda, I have the chicks."

"Sanders, if I tell you that I knew your 'chicks' when they stood between Normandy and the Collectors, would you know what I mean?"

"Not really, Jack. "

"Yeah. All right, how can I put this … they put themselves in harm's way for us all, but the Alliance threw their friends in prison and threatened them, too. You there, Goldstein, right? What did you do?"

"We hid, ma'am."

"So you hid, and Cerberus commandos got you on the Citadel, right? You, there, what's your name?"

"Hadley, ma'am. We were picked up in different places, though. Not altogether, all at once. The press squads had different lists, ma'am. The longest list was for shoot-on-sight. I saw five people get put up against a wall."

Miranda broke in: "You were on some _other_ sort of list then?"

"Not sure, but we all met Mr Harper by video link, Ms Lawson. He told us we'd done well under Shepard and he expected us to do even better under him, but we had to go through 'induction' first."

"Very well. Lady and gentlemen, you all know the lady we all call, simply, 'Jack.'

Nods all around. "Aye aye, ma'am."

"You have presumably been introduced to Sanders. These other recruits will be bunking with you. They are biotic specialists, but you will all be expected to assume normal shipboard duties. Clear?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am."

"Good. Before we board, please bear in mind that these students were very nearly kidnapped for the same purposes as yourselves, from Grissom Academy; but the Illusive Man's plans were frustrated by Commander Shepard. Jack, Sanders tells me you were their instructor?"

"My scandalous school, yes. It wasn't just Shepard, though. Sanders here called him in, and he brought Liara and Javik. Between us all we creamed the best part of two Cerberus companies."

"I _see_. I'll get that story off you later, if you don't mind. Are we done? These are the last crew to board."

"No problem. Sanders even has video. Hang on, though."

Jack turned back to her biotic students. "There you have it, guys. What you have in common is your enemies. These guys might have been Cerberus once, but hell, the Illusive Man thought Shepard and I were working for him too."

"He put these people through what Cerberus wanted to do to _you_. Team leaders, does having been on a Cerberus ship make them your enemy?"

Some thoughtful faces. "No, ma'am. They were press-ganged?"

"You got that straight. Listen up. You're not students anymore. Neither are they. Remember that. Don't be put off by the zombie eyes, that's being taken care of. One more thing. Ms Lawson here is a civilian, but she's _Captain_ Lawson. What does that mean? Prangley?"

"Uhh ... she gives the orders?"

"A bit slow, Prangley, but you got that right. On board ship, her word is law. Right here and now she's Miranda Lawson. When you board that ship, she's Jupiter and Jehovah. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Take it away, Miranda. Hey, are any of these ex-Cerberus kids biotics?"

Miranda shook her head. "Matthews and Hawthorne are tech specialists. Goldstein and Hadley are just troopers, but good ones. Okay. Recruits, you don't have to trust one another right away. Let us worry about that. But you _will _sit with the others at table. Hear me? You might need them, and they might need you."

The biotic specialists and ex-Cerberus troop nodded. "Aye aye, ma'am."

"Good. Your first act after bunk assignment is to exchange details and draw uniform. Double file, advance and be recognized"

The little group, barely half a platoon, boarded the gangway to airlock security.

"Whew. Damn it, Jack, how did you manage to ask that? I met these guys a week ago and never picked up the courage to ask them how they came to be mind-raped."

"Don't sweat it, I've had a year to get used to the idea that a student's background might explain how they learn. Sanders, anything more before we board?"

"Um … have you two met Admiral Mikhailov?"

"Boris, the mad Russian?"

Miranda suppressed a snigger. "I have. He came through _Overlord _after delivery here, and sniffed at the oversized drive core."

Kahlee looked severe. "Were you polite?"

Jack picked up on this. "I'm not allowed to rain on his parade?"

Miranda shook her head. _Later__._ "It was hard. I wished Shepard were here. He disrespected the design in front of Garrus, who represented the Primarch at the commissioning –"

"– _No!_" Jack was enthralled. Kahlee winced.

"He's really very good at his job, Jack. But he had a run-in with Shep just after he was made Spectre, and still nurses a bruised ego. Let's just hope he stays on the _Kilimanjaro_? No?"

"Too late, Sanders. Boris called a conference on the _Peacemaker_. He seems to have been under the impression that because the _Normandy_ classes are stealthy and have multiple QECs that they're diplomatic and command ships. Snarked about not needing a _Peacemaker_ for talking to Reapers."

"He said _that?_ To a Turian. To _Garrus?_"

"Yes, Jack! And Garrus, of course, being a complete gun nut, lectured him for two minutes about some famous old revolver and a chain gun. The gist was that if the human Admiral couldn't understand a cultural reference from his own planet then perhaps the Turians would be obliged to undertake their own expedition. Boris was beside himself. Then Garrus walked out."

"Oh my God." Kahlee began to regret not having the juniors in earshot.

"So then the Primarch and Hackett had to get involved, and Mikhailovich isn't commanding the stealth pickets during approach phase anymore. _Garrus _is."

"So what's Boris doing?"

"He's commanding the scout flotilla from the _Kilimanjaro_, Jack. Which isn't a dreadnought anymore, it's a glorified space factory for making conduit relays. He's also the engineering fabrication chief – and actually a rather good one. The upshot is that he can be as sniffy as he likes, Miranda, but _you're _not in his line of command – "

"– Merciful providence."

"– 'until contact with the enemy', quaint phrase for battle. You are, with Garrus, expected to flush the Reapers out. And survive."

"I can live with that. Okay, let's get this show on the road."

Saturday, December 21, 2013


	27. Revolver

**After Dark**

_Six pack_

Vakarian watched three familiar figures enter _Overlord_ with a pang of nostalgia. He liked Sanders, respected Miranda Lawson's achievements with her co-opted mercenaries, and was a little in awe of Jack, or at least her ability to pick interesting fights.

He considered paying a visit. But they looked a bit preoccupied, and he had his own … calibrations to do, of crew as well as guns. Speaking of which, the loading trolley had just left the front loading hatch. Time to head for the elevator.

_"Nyrek. With me. Where's Riley?"_

_"She's already down in the loading bay, General, fitting up the revolving blitz pod."_

Briskly moving aft, Garrus happily considered the state of the ship. The human/turian design had undergone a few changes, but the CIC map location still followed turian standards. In most other respects the machinery was likewise the same as the original design, excepting Tali's improvements to the original Normandy ...

_"I'd try the stairs, General. It only takes eight seconds to go down a level."_

... and there you had another exception. The humans had insisted on an alternative to the elevator – primitive and unsafe access stairs following the wall curvature. After the débâcle when the soliton grid disabled Normandy's elevator controls, he'd agreed. Turian engineers had (with bad grace) accepted this, as emergency access was suddenly an issue.

_"True, Nyrek, but the steps do clatter so. I notice that the ones in _Overlord_ have rubberized cleats and step clips."_

They and the humans were learning such fascinating details from each other. Wars before the Shanxi conflict had been so one-sided in favour of the turian empire that such ... accommodations hadn't been necessary.

_"I'll speak to the engineers about it, sir."_

Turian ingenuity had wrought the Thanix cannon, wonderful instruments of destruction, of proven value even against a Reaper destroyer, particularly if a hit were scored on the open priming chamber.

_"They're a bit busy with the blitz pod at present, Nyrek, leave it for slack time."_

Against a Reaper capital ship, even Thanix streamguns hadn't a prayer. Absent something better, a frigate's only defences would be stealth and speed.

_"Come on now, sir, you're just itching to play with the new toys."_

_"Not at fifty thousand credits a torpedo I'm not, Corporal."_

This was somewhat hypocritical, thought Nyrek. The captains of _Overlord_ and _Peacemaker_ were not by temperament suited to the role of small mammals hiding from dinosaurs.

Vakarian's idea of a dinosaur hunt involved artillery.

Lawson's involved a cliff. Or a pit lined with stakes.

That bloody female could be ... disturbing, at times. However, she had been instrumental in getting the turian and human staff colleges to put their heads together. The teams they formed, including the Normandy engineers, had productively compared notes – after cautious negotiations.

Nyrek had been deep in thought as they entered crew deck by the med bay and crossed to the stairs down to engineering.

_"We're fifteen minutes from lift-off, General. What have the mercenaries been hiding in their loading bay, Sir? Can you tell us now?"_

Worries about the task force weaponeers weren't just casual. Some of the blistering comments by that damned difficult human Admiral Mikhailovich, which had just enough validity to sting, had helped generate new ideas. His objections weren't xenophobic or technical; Mikhailovich had appreciated the turian Thanix streamgun design, for example, very much. They had to do with military doctrine.

_"All I could see was two bloody great gun shapes covered with canvas and foil, Nyrek, and Alliance military guards. Not mercs. Shepard might have told me what's going on, but he's not around any more."_

The Turian hierarchy felt it would have been a lot easier to argue with Mikhailovich had Lawson spoken in support, but she was close-mouthed.

Primarch Victus and Garrus had their own ideas about doctrine, notably the use of flexible but overwhelming force at a _schwerpunkt_. That traditional turian doctrine had been somewhat discredited by Reaper force being even greater and more flexible than their own, but Victus' revised version incorporated some innovations that, it was hoped, Reapers would not anticipate.

From Engineering the hull-following stairs stopped, to get the cargo bay you either took the elevator or access shafts in the subwell.

Nyrek wasn't letting this go. _"So it's a special gun sir? A super _Cain_ maybe?"_ Garrus headed for the elevator and tried to think.

What was really odd and unsettling about Mikhailovich's doctrine, was nothing to do with guns or weapons. Simply put, he did not agree with either turian or familiar human military doctrine. Certainly not the technical and soldierly virtuosity of normal Alliance doctrine as they understood it, relying on layered defence and a fleet in being.

_"I didn't even ask Williams, she'd laugh and tell me to ask again after five shots of whisky, I'm not going down that road again, and Lawson would just give me a beady eye. But I'd assume it's not just guns. There's something else going on, something about the way they'll be used."_

Hackett had fought what amounted to a guerrilla action where it was assumed the enemy's strong concentrations could not be broken head-on, purely to gain time for deployment of a superweapon. But Earth had drafted three percent of its population, and one percent was in fleet troop carriers when the Reapers hit. Over a hundred million men.

Mikhailovich, therefore, constantly harped and hammered on unremitting harassment, committing vast numbers of cheaply trained soldiers. With warning provided by the Collector ship, he and his allies had prompted the Alliance and Turian navies to construct a great many standard 250,000 tonne freighters equipped for cold sleep, and later there were huge, barely maneuverable cylindrical shells – "barracks-ships," so-called.

Between the freighters and the barracks-ships, the Alliance alone was "housing" _over __a hundred million __combat troops_ (in cold sleep) in space. That was not counting the empty shells set aside for Krogan troops. These were supposed to be supported by cheaply built combat vessels. But Mikhailovich did not have them, because Hackett had diverted so much Alliance engineering to the Crucible project.

He might have them soon, though. If rumours were true, the Crucible project had been ordered by QEC to start building more conduit relays and fleet units to carry them. Still, like other NAS-based Alliance strategists, Hackett would not commit troops to a sausage grinder – but Coats and Mikhailovich would, so long as victory was thereby assured.

_"Are they sending a ground-based army, sir?"_

That sounded like a recipe for disaster; one problem with Mikhailovich's approach was the lengthy co-ordination time required. On the other hand it had sometimes worked very well on occupied colonies; when major Reaper units left to address a threat by Hackett's main fleets, the 63rd Scout flotilla would descend to places like Terra Nova and simply massacre as much as ninety-eight percent of enemy effectives in hours. The Reapers had found, as with many empires before, that their effective combat units could not be everywhere at once.

_"Not likely, Nyrek. For this expedition Hackett has selected Mikhailovich, of all people, to attack what might well be a reservoir of Reaper capital ships."_

_"What had he been smoking, sir?"_

_"He would not discuss his choice further."_

There had been speculation that Hackett wanted to discredit a political rival; Mikhailovich came from a prickly and difficult nation-state not completely happy with its influence in what passed for Earth government these days.

This had been somewhat dispelled by the appointment of Dominic Osoba as councilor, who did not seem at all under anyone's thumb, and certainly not Hackett's.

_"It's got to be something to do with the elder Shepard, sir. Must be."_

Garrus thought the corporal was wrong. The conspiracy theories lately focused on a supposed relationship between Hackett and Admiral Shepard. Surely not.

_"I couldn't possibly comment, Corporal."_

First, Hackett's disappearance to Arcturus while Hannah Shepard circulated among Council diplomats, usually on Earth's surface where she had dramatically improved reconstruction efforts, had killed such speculation.

Second, and Garrus couldn't let this slip out, their separation probably had something to do with Shepard's dying body. Only three turians existed who knew it had been recovered: Tactus, Vakarian, and the Primarch.

_"And I don't want to hear you speculating with crew. Clear, Corporal?"_

That was a 'born secret', never to be even remotely hinted at outside a secure bubble. Tactus was of the opinion John Shepard's body had stayed with the mother.

_"Whatever's going on between the human top brass, it can't have anything to do with our mission. They're not here, they won't be the field commanders."_

This was reinforced by extraordinary scenes Tactus had witnessed between Lawson and Chambers, hinting at deep emotional links non-humans could barely guess at, except for Liara, who clearly intuited _something_ but wouldn't be drawn on the subject.

Garrus was conflicted about Chambers/Hannigan.

_"It'll just cause strife with the _Overlord_ crew. We can't have that."_

He refused to think of her as Kelly, now. He'd got into the habit of calling her that when she'd just been a sweet and harmless human female, hah, who had inexplicably managed to coax from him his worries about his family. He hadn't even been drunk.

Bloody human secretaries, Samantha Traynor was as bad. Suddenly Shepard had been in the doorway when he got a message from his dad and sister. That message had to have been routed through Traynor's comm board.

There were entirely too many coincidental connections between the human hierarchy and Chambers. Garrus didn't believe in coincidences. And then ... she'd been "Hannigan", the true and the good. But she'd been a spy for the Man. Garrus had been cold and distant to her, even rude. That had been a mistake. Liara had given him a **look**. Michel had seemed _hurt_.

_"We don't understand humans that well, they don't understand us, and we've no asari on board yet to help."_

What could a self-respecting turian soldier do? There was some mysterious sisterhood thing going on. He put up with her, and she got the subliminal message. Tactus and Massani took her part, but Garrus remained deeply suspicious of some ulterior motive. Although she dropped out of sight when adoring refugees wanted to give her money, post-reapers. Some of them, like Ashland and Elkoss, were seriously rich. What had been the point of that? More damn mysteries.

_"Also, it would disrespect the dead."_

Turians had a thing about military dead. They found places like the Yasukuni shrine quite comprehensible, which asari did not. It even resembled the Guardian Rest.

Garrus honored the memory of Shepard as much as the next sentient, but his memory was assuming the ghastly outline of religious devotion. Shepard would not have approved. Especially not if he was still alive, which Tactus could not rule out, but Chloe Michel had said he was not long for this world. Then she clammed up completely.

More likely Chambers had buried him at her South Pacific hidey-hole until the hysteria was over. Post exhumation he could quietly be slipped into the ground at Arlington.

The elevator stopped and they exited between racks of FTL fire-and-forget rounds for the revolver pod.

_"Look at that, Nyrek. Riley, you've made a thing of beauty."_

The joint team had two ideas which might ensure continued survival. Both involved weapons really too big for a frigate, but after the scene with Mikhailovich there was motivation to try something wild.

_"Thank you, Sir. Nyrek, are we with your troop? ..."_

The humans on _Overlord_ had been quite open about intending to use nuclear weapons. This was laughable. A fission device might barely achieve the energy of a single Reaper main shot, about 250 kilotons TNT-equivalent tops, maybe twelve times the size of the nominal nuke that had been dropped on Hiroshima. Pointless. A Reaper's point-defence systems would kill it five kilometres away.

Turians had never been so silly. You don't foul your own nest with radiation in a ground war. Even thermonuclear warheads, with sufficient layers of fusible material wrapping a fission bomb, maybe an order of magnitude more powerful, weren't likely to hurt a Reaper unless it went off inside (as on Palaven) or really close to the hard exoskeleton.

That wouldn't happen in a realistic space rumble. What were they missing? The humans were altogether too sanguine about the idea. The problem was that Mikhailovich had agreed with their analysis. But he'd _smirked_... which, Liara said, meant trouble. She'd done a bit of research.

It turned out that humans had discovered a method of gaining much greater efficiency from thermonuclear warheads and had managed to make 'hydrogen bombs' about two orders of magnitude more potent than the fission warheads typically used in old Turian times. Also, they had miniaturized them to an astonishing degree. Some rocket-borne payloads had a dozen independently targetable warheads.

Even so, in deep space a nuclear warhead couldn't transmit the deadly blast effects which made them so dangerous in-atmosphere. The harm would come from 'prompt radiation' crossing the vacuum. Reaper shielding could take four dreadnought two-hundred kiloton hits before crashing. Turians, like other races, had never taken fusion designs beyond simple layered-fissile methods. For space battles, they were pointless. For ground bombardment, kinetic strikes were cheaper and much, much more destructive.

Victus had dismissed the whole nuke notion as another unproductive Mikhailovich brainstorm. Garrus wasn't so sure. Hackett and Coats had not reined him in. It smelled of an _I-know-something-you-don't_ situation of the kind Salarians were so good at.

All the same, Garrus preferred the other human idea; the blitz pack, the revolver FTL pod which reminded his liaison officer, Riley, of an old human chemical-propellant pistol. Riley had been the team leader of the Cyone fuel base. As N7, she'd been ordered into Hammer and Nyrek had introduced her. Riley had shown them her personal "revolver", in a wooden display box, an intricately engraved bit of primitive technology of the kind the turian empire had abandoned four thousand years previously. This revolver was only three centuries old.

It was a shocking reminder of the stagnation of the old council civilizations, but what had struck Victus most was the name given this particular model. There had been many 'revolver' manufacturers. Riley spoke knowledgeably about Webley .455 calibre for example, but her own one did not have an unsubtle macho nickname like 'manstopper'. Instead, it was known as a 'Peacemaker'. An odd name for such a weapon, said the Primarch. It was issued to peace officers – police – said Riley, in matter-of-fact tones. But she also quoted an ancient Roman proverb, _ubi solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant_. "They make a great waste, and call it peace".

Early Roman culture closely resembled turian society, right down to scorched-earth responses to rebellion. Victus had liked the phrase, and christened Garrus' new vessel _Peacemaker_. It would not have been Garrus' first choice, yet he perversely felt an obscure pride. Tacitus would have been rotating in his grave so fast you could fit up a dynamo and generate power.

The six 'bullets' Peacemaker could fire in rapid succession were twelve metres long, with a shuttle-grade FTL drive core and a new FTL controller VI which did NOT halt for obstacles.  
They had just enough Helium-3 to cross a stellar system. The energy did not come from the ³He itself, which merely powered the Casimir generators and capacitors, drawing from the vacuum energy of the universe to warp four-space. Tali's absconded God had not so far expressed a disapproving response to the bug report.

The humans had done something else interesting. The original Reaper design had embedded safeties deep in FTL workings to prevent:

(a) accidental collisions, and  
(b) the use of FTL kamikaze ships.

Rather than remove the FTL safeties – still an ongoing research project at the Crucible – the humans had subverted them. Instead of refusing to fire if it would result in a collision, the safety would _only_ fire if it would result in a collision. The logic inversion was a bit precarious, and the VIs had to be perilously close to AIs, to choose a Reaper from the available collisions. But they did consistently work, now.

Only Riley of those on board had ever fired one of these things in anger, though. Too secret for target practice till on the way. But Garrus shivered in happiness thinking of the first target of opportunity for his new, big, six-shooter.

They would be engaging the enemy typically at a hundred and fifty million kilometres. Trajectory time would be about thirty seconds. There could be no photon-based sensor warning. Garrus didn't know what would happen when a Reaper collided with a shuttle-sized mass moving at fifteen light years per day.

But that first Reaper could not know either, and never would.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013 -7/7-


	28. Tales of the South Pacific

**After Dark**

_D__awn_

Michel was pinching the bridge of her nose, just between the eyes. She must be very tired. It was past breakfast time. But they'd finally finished.

"At least we've got the last of the manual down now."

Miranda was beginning to feel the strain herself. "As much of it as I can remember, anyway. If I were there _all the time_ ...

"Stop wishing for fairy dust."

"... I could remember more, as circumstances arise."

"We're linked through the secondary QEC in _Overlord_, Miranda, that will have to do for now."

Chloe had not been obstructive, exactly, but Miranda had the very strong impression that her instructions were definite; a certain Miranda Lawson was not to take over treatment. She sighed, again.

"Stop that, you species of hypocrite, you can't have your ship and be here at the same time."

Which was, unfortunately, quite true. And she would _not_ give up _Overlord_.

"All right. Well, we've gone as far as we can with the musculature and skin. The bones are the major problem and they're knitting, now, if slowly. It'll take another month before silane fibres are linked up by the bacterial vectors."

"Yeah, but in engineering terms our Shepard will have sufficient strength from the natural bone growth for day-to-day operations. Even a little light exercise, to bring back some muscle tone."

"The flash clone is only fifteen, physiologically."

"All the organs are functioning, even the pancreas, so the clone is superfluous –"

"I hope you provoked acephaly, then. I'd have no compunction ditching the surplus CPU but his mum might feed me to the fishes."

Michel nodded.

"Then it's time for you to think about withdrawing the coma régime."

This made Chloe very thoughtful. "Actually, Steven and Hannah are supposed to be coming by relay on the _Normandy_, visiting this evening. Arriving, first dog watch. Leaving again, end of second dog. So they can inspect both port and starboard watches."

This news made Miranda sit bolt upright. "They'll be at your airlock just seven hours from now. You have to do it while they're there. You won't have another opportunity."

"We don't even know if he's still inside. What if there's no Shepard to wake up?"

"Come on, Chloe. Be brave. Who else should be present?"

* * *

_Summer_

The summons from the meeting with the Council staff had been exquisitely bad timing, but the Admiral herself requested their presence.

_I embraced the summer dawn__._

Tevos simply said "We're doing little good here. Valern will cope. Let's go."

_Nothing yet moved before the palaces__. _

They'd met Hackett first, near the still-smoking shores of Auckland, amid a terrible stench of decaying flesh – just one glaring example of the recent devastation. Liara was beginning to feel airsick. Tevos did not look well now, either.

_The water was dead__._

Reaper processing was only set up to liquefy a rather small percentage of the total number of victims. It seemed that to 'archive' a genome and generate material for a human reaper required the deaths of 'only' a few million a week.

_Fields of shadows haunting the woodland road._

Liara calculated with surprise that each slaughtership, for example, typically converted "only" a little more than four thousand persons per day. _She_, though still lived.

_I walked on, waking breath living and warm._

Even though the Reapers had several hundred slaughterships, historically four or five thousand killings a day was small potatoes, orders of magnitude smaller than the Soviet _zek_ camps and certain Axis camps around the time of the second Terran war. Many more, however, were made husks.

_The rocks just watched. Wings fled noiselessly._

Their spirits lifted after diverting to some out-of-the-way Pacific _rendez-vous_ at a Mission Station with a reduplicated Polynesian name, to retrieve Chakwas and staff from quarters in an ancient stone warehouse. With her was Chambers! In nurse's uniform, loose white clothes and red cloak, name badge _Hannigan_. Their eyes met.

_... along the path already strewn with fresh pale __petals__,  
__one __blossom__ told me her name._

Liara said nothing just then, to Tevos or indeed any passenger. Tevos though emitted a barely suppressed hysterical giggle, "Goddess, this has been appalling, T'soni ..."

_I laughed at the blond waterfall draping sunlit hair through the saplings;_

Hannigan/Chambers was looking as well as might be expected, but subdued. _So, Kelly's with Chakwas, not Michel. Hm ... can I work out in advance what the Admirals have in mind?_

In quiet conversation Kelly confirmed that the largest number of Reaper victims actually fell to the increasing level of kinetic bombardment, not slaughterships or husks ("Just two cities in Australasia suffered kinetic strikes, Auckland and Adelaide.")

_B__y the silverlight mountain peak I knew the goddess.  
__So I lifted her veils, one by one._

What of the civilian population in other regional centers? They'd been wiped out by husk armies generated by slaughterships, after the national armies had quite literally taken to the hills.

_Down alleyways, waving my arms__. _

The corpses hadn't been processed, buried or eaten. The Alliance organized bulldozing them into mounds. They were then pushed into the sea for the sharks.

During the long low ocean traverse, Liara introduced Tevos to Chambers, under her refugee name, as a colleague and liaison.

_In the open plain, where I made her known to the crowing cock._

Nurse Felicia expressed concern as Tevos used the in-flight nausea bag, dropped to one knee beside her, proffered a moist towel, then water. She asked the Councilor if the parade of horrors had been too much.

Liara watched in fascination as Tevos poured out her frustrations, fears, and regrets to a shapeless but sympathetic junior nurse of no significance to inter-species relations.

"How did Allers put it on the news? The Reapers didn't even stop to indoctrinate? You don't realize what that means till you smell it. _What have they done in Thess__ia__?_"

"Councilor, you can't punish yourself for not being there, and most of the Reapers were protecting the Citadel, here. We are pushing for Thessia, and they are pushing to meet us. Don't despair. It might be only four years now."

Tahiti and surrounding islands were among the few to escape complete depopulation. Small asteroids had caused local tsunamis, but surprisingly few deaths. Bora Bora had been the last stop, picking up Hannah Shepard. Chambers excused herself.

_I __lost her among town domes and belfrys__._

Then it was Papeete for assorted staff and the ride to space with Normandy. By now Tevos was a little less pale. Liara saw no profit in enlightening the councilor as to the Nurse's real status, particularly since she wasn't sure about that herself. Casting about for a handle on the situation, she tried to engage Hannah Shepard's attention.

_A vagabo__nd escaping across marble quays, I tracked her down__._

Tevos actually paid attention as Hannah struggled to put what they'd witnessed in perspective; _"Councilor, what you've seen __so far__ is small beer compared to the major land masses. __Central and East Asia__ has lost _two thirds_ of __the__ population __there__."_

"_How is that militarily possible?"_

Hackett took up the conversation.

"_Simply put, ma'am, the Alliance does not control national armies. Each nation fought according to national doctrine which served in its previous wars. Owing to human-wave tactics being reflected as husks, the Chinese did poorly till the military 'reorganized' the politburo and adopted Fabian tactics."_

"_Fabian?"_

Liara knew this one. _"A term which won't translate well, ma'am. Delaying tactics, basically. Avoiding pitched battle. Abandoning heavy equipment inside centuries-old 'Great Wall' bunkers. Dispersing the armed forces."_

Hannah went on to explain that Africa lost only one third of its people, despite being almost completely devoid of organized military response, because the primal instinct of tribal militias was to split into tiny groups and merge with the general population, attacking only when attacked.

"_The common principle of survival was to make it hard for the Reapers to annihilate large identifiable groups, Councilor. It took some time for Anderson to learn that. The Russians did a little better, because they have faced total national annihilation at least twice before in the last millenium. They had an appreciation of what sacrifices needed to be made for national survival." _

Tevos had a thunderstruck look. Liara was not surprised; this cast the advancement of those like Mikhailovich in a new light. Hackett gave further examples. Even the indoctrinated had been rounded up into penal battalions and made to fight husks. Many chose to be killed by husks. Others turned to face extermination from unindoctrinated troops – with the best weapons – in the rear echelon. A tiny minority faced the husks and prevailed. These were deemed worthy of life, despite indoctrination, and segregated.

"_So slaughterships then weren't the main reason for the devastation?"_

"_No ma'am, except in the early days of Reaper occupation ..."_

After the 'Miracle of Palaven,' where slaughterships had been destroyed by volunteers carrying backpack nukes inside, the Reapers had avoided their deployment to nations known to stockpile nuclear warheads. That meant slaughterships were conspicuous by their absence in the old CIS areas, especially Russia, as well as the NAS. In those polities, extermination took the form of kinetic strikes on population centres.

"_... especially before the Citadel arrived."_

Some cities of propaganda significance (notably Moscow, London and New York) had Reaper quasi-governments till the Citadel appeared overhead. Husks and marauders patrolled the streets from slaughterships on the outskirts, the Reapers apparently thinking that the Resistance would be less likely to strike their own cultural centers.

"_The rate of killing was so low that it would have taken over a decade to destroy Earth's population utterly. __That changed after their Palaven defeats. They stepped up.__"_

Generally speaking, slaughterships were transferred to third-world or nuclear-free areas with genetically diverse populations ... Australasia, say, Africa, or the South Pacific, or Indo-China. Elsewhere, especially after the Citadel arrived, something like four billion had died in kinetic strikes on nearly every megalopolis, the remnants chased to Reaper "administrators" or slaughterships. Another two billion fell victims to, or became, husks, marauders, brutes, banshees, and cannibals in rural areas.

"_So what's your assessment of recovery, Admiral Shepard?"_

"_Slow even after six months, despite the two hundred million conscripts who emerged from bunkers, limestone caverns, and other refuges."_

Hackett had then remarked that while Earth's industry was still in the very early stages of the Primarch's five-year plan, it did benefit from the inability of Reapers to destroy machine-tool industries and infrastructure bunkered in China, India, the NAS, and centers near Russia.

Liara found this credible. The journey from the asari foothold on Earth to Auckland, for example, had actually been by a primitive, yet brand-new, hydrogen-burning ground-effect craft. The pilot had told her it was manufactured on the outskirts of the ruin that was Samara. _"That was extraordinarily rapid,"_ Tevos noted, but once again Hackett said simply that it had happened before in recent history.

Tevos and Liara had thought to go by shuttle. Fleet vessels, a dreadnought, say, were far too large for terrestrial landings. The ME core could be idled to counteract gravity but hogging at bow and stern would impose impossible loads on the stressed-skin monococque hulls, unless the interior were pressurized to several atmospheres, which would never happen absent some emergency. The problem was that all _Everest's_ shuttles were busy shuttling reloads for the spinal gun and some new weapon systems, from Oregon factories and New Mexico proving grounds to orbit.

But the end was in sight. What Hackett had made available was atmosphere craft for all city visits, then the _Normandy_, which did not cope all that well with the gravity, but could conveniently manage one pickup to orbit.

They met Williams at the airlock, who explained they'd be lifting _in five._

"Councilor, you and Doctor T'Soni can bunk in the XO's office – you know where that is, Liara. Doctor Chakwas, welcome back, you and the Nurse will be in the sick bay as usual."

Liara caught Williams' eye. _"__Still a taxi, eh?"_ Williams _winked_. "Admirals, I insist you take the loft – the top cabin. It has an ensuite shower and toilet ..."

Whoops, Chakwas and Chambers were already vanishing down the accessway. With not-quite-seemly haste, Liara followed towards the elevator.

_By the road's high peak near the laurel green_

Tevos trailed behind making somewhat querulous complaints about the rush. _"__One floor down, Councilor,"_ Liara offered over her shoulder. Only Chakwas, Chambers, and T'Soni made it into the elevator together.

_I swept her up in her heap of __veils__ ..._

Under Chakwas' slightly disapproving gaze, Liara caught Kelly by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. She received a sunny grin in response. Kelly hugged her, and she hugged right back, feeling softness under the cloak and clothes.

_... and felt a little the immensity of her body ..._

"You naughty thing, what have you done to yourself? You've grown _fat_._"_ Chakwas was cracking up, and covered her mouth.

_... __the dawn and her child fell to the foot of the forest__ ..._

The elevator door opened up, and the three of them stepped out. In a little while Liara would have to sort out show Tevos her bed, and rig bunks for herself and the amanuensis...

"She's not _fat_ exactly, Liara. See us when you're settled. Hannah says it's time you understood a few things."

_On awakening, there shone the noonday sun._

Thursday, December 26, 2013 -6/6-


	29. Day Zero

**After Dark**

_Day __Zero_

_Normandy_ exited the Earth-transit wormhole at the Pluto end, a lot more sedately than it had entered. Ashley walked up from the CIC to the cockpit, slowly, deliberately, and not at all losing her cool, she told herself.

"Okay. What just happened?"

By the time she entered the cockpit, it was actually true. Whatever the drama had been, they'd just entered normal space through the L-2 relay near Pluto, and the expected view of a dim planet was exactly that displayed. Next stop was the S-1 relay at Pluto's pole.

"Ah well, LC, it was just Cortez screaming like a girl –"

"– _I'm_ a girl and _I_ don't scream like that. I scream differently. Cortez, are you alright?"

The co-pilot looked at his hands gripping the (locked) airfoil yoke. The knuckles were white. "Yes ma'am. Would you really like to know what happened, commander?"

Carefully, Cortez willed his hands to release the yoke. Then he clasped his fingers together.

"Very well. Leave out the drama, if possible."

S-1, the entry to Arcturus, was also in a sense relay zero of the N chain building towards the semi-mythical Reaper 'dark space'. S-1 was _not_ in geosynchronous orbit around Pluto. It was on a crystalline column embedded in Pluto's surface, at the north rotational pole, so they were heading for a grazing rendezvous with the surface. So far, so nominal. There was a little time.

"I believe Joker had Bitwise taking pictures, ma'am. Perhaps you should roll 'em. But basically, I thought he'd lost his mind and was driving us into the moon." _Bitwise_ was the name coined for the souped-up VI that had (not) taken EDI's place; it was by common consent a plodding entity dealing with issues one after the other, and only a little bit wise.

If Joker had Bitwise recording video of this ... event, whatever he'd done was premeditated.

"In a minute. First, Joker, is there going to be any repetition of that ... noise on the next jump? Is S-1 where it should be?"

Like the old Charon Relay, indeed like _all_ reaper-based mass relays, S-1's mount was in a predictable position. Endpoint predictability was important for a point-to-point link. (_All_ mass relays are point-to-point, though some can change the point they link to).

"Yeah, commander. No problem, honest, I just wanted to prove a fast transit was possible. Can you believe I cut eight minutes off the free-space time from Earth orbit to L-1?"

"I do believe it, Joker. I _don't_ think it was worth that noise."

Moreau had become expert in minimizing "drift" for the old relay exit points. Drift could be tens to thousands of kilometres, depending on transport range (not normally a variable) and mass (usually variable) through the wormhole throat.

Drift was quite bad enough without adding rapid short-radius orbital motion to the calculations. So, a system's old-style mass relay typically stood at least 30AU from the system primary. That is, it was a _long_ way out from the star. The newer small-scale conduit relays ... didn't have to be.

"Gah, _such_ a downer. Anyway, it's programmed into Bitwise now, even Cortez could do it just by calling up the follow-me routine."

Moreau had prided himself on being consistently able to drop a two-thousand kilometre drift to fifteen hundred. But the new relays made that achievement pointless. Evidently he was trying to establish new indicia of unique competence. _Bloody __testosterone._

"_I _see. Moreau, you are relieved, come with me." Joker went white. Let him sweat.

"Cortez, take us through S-1. Copeland, take the co-pilot's seat, it's time your lessons got past simulators." Ashley pivoted on her heel and strode toward the elevator, not looking to see how badly Moreau was limping behind her, and pondered the problem.

For any two relay endpoints to form a wormhole of the proper capacity they had to use instantaneous communication, which in practice meant an entangled QEC pair. No-one had ever been allowed to fiddle with old-style reaper relay QEC communicators. That was forbidden in the same way that studying keepers had been forbidden ... a mysterious rule of great antiquity which might almost have been designed to keep the zoo animals in their cages.

Fiddling had happened anyway, though, by rogue salarians and quarians. Now that the rules were history, they had published some disturbing details concerning reaper relay QEC pairs. They were almost perversely designed to be inaccurate. So the far end of a Reaper wormhole could easily drift a few thousand kilometres from the nominal position.

Thus, fiddling could engender new understanding. Ashley Williams wanted no part of fiddling of any kind, though, when she was carrying two Admirals and a Councilor. Time Moreau learned that. She turned and waited for Joker to catch up.

"Elevator to Captain's loft, please. Bitwise, are Hackett and Shepard ready to receive the flight briefing?"

"Yes, Commander, Admiral Shepard has signalled readiness."

Ashley had heard Moreau say that new style prothean-tech conduit relays were "cheating". Their QEC relays were certainly as accurate as turian/human engineering could make them.

Drift uncertainty at extreme range, six hundred light years for frigate transport, was only _tw__elve__ metres_ – approximately the resolution of pulsar positioning systems. Any idiot straight out of flight school could look good ... except that the Admiralty _insisted_ on mounting them just a few tens of metres, if that, above a planetary or asteroidal surface.

That made the entry point, um, challenging to hit, at speed. So the rule was, and it was very sensible, _not_ to hit the entry point at speed. Just gently cruise on up, on mass effect fields.

Joker finally got in the elevator as the doors closed, looking very glum.

"Moreau. You have twenty seconds. Speak." _Let's see how the bugger gets out of this_.

Joker was prepared. "Ma'am, the exit point of a relay can itself be a weapon for a frigate moving fast enough. If a relay endpoint can be moved in a fraction of a second out of clear space, to a hundred metres from a planetary surface ... anyone chasing a fleet frigate could be creamed by switching them to kiss the planet's surface at, say, forty kilometres a second."

"You've been speaking to Tali, Moreau. For strategic reasons that's not widely advertised."

"You sure about that, commander? Right now on the extranet there's a few videos of approaches to the L-1 conduit relay on the lunar surface which show a frigate getting to the new Charon relays, like S-1, in a _big _hurry."

The elevator doors opened. Ashley stepped into the loft lobby, thinking hard.

"All righty, you live another few seconds." The loft door opened and Hackett motioned them in. "Admiral, I've brought Lieutenant Moreau to see you, for disciplinary purposes. First, however, I believe he has something to say about military uses of the local relay network."

In the next few minutes, Joker tried to explain how tactics of rapid transit were becoming a popular exercise among shuttle and frigate pilots. He called up some extranet videos to the display above the private terminals; they made Hannah Shepard gasp, and Ashley was impressed despite herself.

Moreau did not know which _Normandy_-class frigate was responsible, but suspected the most popular vid to be one produced by that Cat6 youth showboating in _Overlord_. It didn't show a standard 500kph approach, oh no.

On screen the vid started with the scariest bit of mountains and canyon walls flashing by since Gene Cernan took the primitive Apollo 10 LEM to an orbit just fourteen kilometres above the nominal surface, at six thousand kilometres an hour; and it got worse from there. The vid ended in what looked to be a certain crash on a mountain peak ... which was obviated only by entering the wormhole two frames before _splat_.

"All right, Joker. There is an issue with operational security and deviations from flight plans. That however does not excuse your behavior, trying such approaches with VIPs on board. More immediately, you did _not_ clear the deviation from plan with _me_."

"Ma'am."

"Do you wish to contest this before a captain's mast, or will you accept administrative action?"

"_Nolo contendere_, ma'am."

Suddenly, Ashley was at a loss for what to do. Her immediate reaction had been that withdrawal from flight duties was appropriate. But it flashed before her that Shepard had never had this problem with Joker. She sat back. There was no immediate reaction from the two admirals, who both had solemn faces on.

"So, Joker, _now_ you choose to be a thoughtless idiot. Would you have done this when John was around?"

Moreau was looking a little green around the gills, as well he might, with Hannah Shepard hanging on every word.

"Or is it just me? You think you can get away with such behaviour because I'm a woman?"

"No, commander. It wasn't really Commander Shepard, and it's not really you. I just ... I didn't think it was that big a deal."

Silence ruled. Of course it was that big a deal. Was that the best he could do?

"I mean, I _knew_ I could fly the fast plan."

More silence. Ashley rubbed her forehead. She didn't seem to have a lot of options, here. Joker began looking desperate.

"Commander, I'm sorry. I know I should have asked, and if I'd thought about it I'd not have pulled the stunt while you had the Admirals on board."

Hackett spoke for the first time.

"Never mind _us_, son. Councilor Tevos is aboard. If you are lucky, she wasn't in the lounge, looking out the window."

Joker looked completely thunderstruck.

"So, you didn't know. Okay. Do you think that matters?"

"No ma'am."

"Quite right. Tell me why not."

"Because ... I'm not the officer of the day? I can't possibly know from port to port who I'm carrying?"

"Partial answer, maggot. And?"

"So I can't know when a plan deviation might be in order. And ... even if I did ... it wouldn't matter ... because ..."

"You only have the authority to change the flight plan _in consultation when necessary _with the Captain or XO. And when is such consultation expected?"

"When there's an non-standard maneuver, or an element of risk, ma'am."

"Well done. Was this maneuver non-standard?"

"Yes, commander."

"Was there an element of risk?"

"Yes, commander."

Ashley took in the reactions of Steven Hackett and Hannah Shepard. A spark of understanding passed between them.

"Thank you, lieutenant, you are dismissed, and on administrative leave till ultimate disposition. Inform the OOD and return to your quarters."

"Ma'am." Joker got up, painfully, saluted, painfully, and left. Ashley exhaled.

"Admiral Hackett. Admiral Shepard. I hope you understand why I felt I had to do that before your eyes."

Both nodded. "Commander," said Hackett, "I see no flaw in your resolution of this so far. Before we address the enlightening videos from the Lieutenant, may I ask, is this a result of boredom?"

Ashley thought about this, and reluctantly nodded. "It may well be, sir. He has been complaining about driving a taxi."

Hannah nodded. "Ah. But that is an explanation, not an excuse. We can't have him going on like this."

"It's probably my fault, ma'am –"

"Call me Hannah now, please. It's not your fault. John was constantly in danger or some kind of peril. There is a kind of man who needs that, every so often. I wouldn't have thought it of Joker, but I feel that's what we have here."

"Yes," agreed Hackett. "The steam is merely being let off in an unusual direction."

"So what can we do?"

"If we stop him flying, he will seek a discharge."

"That might be preferable to killing everyone aboard."

"But we, the Navy, would lose a truly superlative pilot."

"Cortez is as good, in his own way. But Jeff is sometimes ... inspired."

There was a silence while they looked at this from every angle. Hannah broke it.

"Commander, can I suggest a dual resolution."

"Please do!"

"First, follow your first instinct. Mr Moreau is to be withdrawn from flying duties on the Normandy."

Ashley sighed. "Yes, ma'am. I don't suppose we can do any less."

"Second, I'd like him seconded to the Nest task force, and especially the _Orizaba_. After he's had a couple of days to think about his actions."

"Can do. Won't he be bored?"

"I think not. I'm going to have him piloting the _Kilimanjaro_ a little. We've been having trouble with precise positioning of conduit relays. A dreadnought's a huge beast to control within centimetres."

"Ah. He actually might enjoy that. Except it involves going slow."

"But slow _with precision_."

"Yes, that might make a difference. Also, I wonder if Mikhailovich will explode."

"That's why I want him on the _Orizaba_. Coats is in command over there. Commander Williams, I don't wish to demean your command skills in any way, but there is one thing about men like James Coats and John Shepard –"

"Their men, but not the women, get a subconscious prickling in their gut, where the knife would come in?"

"That's a vivid description, Ashley. Where does it come from?"

"From Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, Hannah. As quoted by James Vega."

Friday, December 27, 2013 -7/7-


	30. First Dog Watch

**After Dark**

_Woof Yoof_

While prepared to grant the slight extra difficulty an old man might experience with centrepunching a two thousand square metre window in space with a frigate, Yoof wasn't too impressed by Joker's bravura transit in _Normandy _from L-1 to L-2.

"I bet I can catch him, old man." Zabaleta was looming over his shoulder.

He'd done something like it twice before, first in Zabaleta's shuttle, to get his eye in, then during _Overlord__'s_ maiden flight from the Turian superdock to the _Orizaba_, just after N-3 was mounted. He'd taken pictures, that time.

Zabaleta seemed fairly tolerant. There was right stuff cred to be had in recording some outlandish, if not quite life-threatening, derring-do. In fact, Yoof'd been cashiered from the Navy precisely because ...

"... The base purser's daughter plated the inside of your Trident's cockpit with her lunch, last time you were trying to catch up with your brainless buddies, Yoof. Or had you forgotten? I haven't."

Well actually that hadn't been why Yoof had been in such trouble. Stunts like that had been the stock in trade of shiny new fighter pilots for centuries. It was more that in the course of the inquiry it had been discovered that he'd plated the inside of the purser's daughter. Which actually made his mouth go dry for a minute. Not from the memory of that last memorable dressing-down. More from the memory of that last memorable undressing. In brief, or in her briefs, Yoof had still wanted her, and she'd still wanted him...

... and last he heard she was in New York when the Reapers hit. If that was what "growing up" felt like, you could shove it.

"Come on, man, for the honor of the boat. If I do this I've got to get moving in the next ... twenty-two seconds."

Zabaleta caught Toombs' eye. "Where is she?"

"With Jack and Matthews, closing up the cold-bunking volume."

This was accommodation for cold sleep in a room corresponding to where the _Normandy_'s AI was lodged. Just temporary, because Lawson righteously affirmed that _one day_ there really _would_ be an honest-to-God AI in that space, if she had to rebuild EDI herself. Essentially, twenty tubes for bodies and cryo.

An equivalent volume was set on the other side of the ship, truncating the XO's space, currently occupied by Jack and the biotics. In coldsleep rooms there were no windows. Lawson might never know.

"We can't let bloody Williams diss us like that."

Toombs got props for some living arrangements. The XO office had been their personal space. Before saying anything to Miranda, Toombs had quietly given his up, to bunk down in gunnery control with the big Thanix cannon (_"I never felt comfortable there, anyway, __Zeb, __it's t__oo grand"_). Zabaleta had by then completed the first stages of paramedic training, so he'd vacated as well, and now was bunking close to the med bay, with the Cerberus kids. Not that they were really kids, except Goldstein, still nineteen. But they were older than Jack's biotic babies. Hadley was twenty-four.

Well then. The kids were buckling in anyway, in anticipation of transit in about ten minutes. They'd just have to buckle a bit faster.

"You're right. This counts as war," Toombs agreed, and reached for ship intercom. _"Transit stations. I say again, transit stations._ Sound for crash webbing, kid."

Yoof chortled. They were starting a little behind, and didn't have no fancy-dancy VI to help, just the basic unit that came with all the turian-built ships, but he'd had some time to work on this and it would do. _"Cameras forward, minus five." _Wide-angle macro chosen. "_Routine Fly-the-wire-L-one, coming up on my mark." _Telling the VI to do the polished transit, safeties on.

Toombs finished buckling himself into the co-pilot's seat, Zabaleta had vanished towards the elevator. _"Five. Four. Three. Two. One. MARK_."

The VI engaged. _Overlord_ swooped.

"_Transit__ minus sixty seconds."_

_Overlord_ dipped again, towards _Mare Crisium_ and the lights of Luna City. Some sentinel was surely going to file another complaint about a seriously incorrect overflight. Yoof didn't care, being more concerned with the time to meet. He'd need eighty-five percent thrusters, which was going to piss off the on-duty engineer, but Matthews would understand when he explained.

"_Transit minus __forty__ seconds."_

With the VI flying by wire for now, Yoof monitored the VI's crash webbing flickers. The last two went green; that was the last safety abort cleared. He became intensely focused on optimizing the level approach on relay L-1, topping the rim of a crater (Peirce-A) at a little over 200 metres.

"_Transit minus __twenty__ seconds."_

If he was going to gain on _Normandy_, he'd have to take the wormhole first time, and L-1 _wasn't responding_. That must mean the wormhole generator hadn't reset after _Normandy_. A frigate was a big lump for even the latest-generation conduit relays. Rough mental calculation said it should be reset by now; if he didn't see L-1's _Ready_ signature soon he'd have to abort – no, there it was, and the VI had acquired transit lock.

"_Transit minus __ten__ seconds. __Commit."_

And then the bloody _phone_ went! _"__What the hell are you playing at, Yoof!"_

* * *

_The inmates and the asylum_

Jana was ambling slowly to her duty cell in the recovery unit when the first ship zipped overhead, so fast no normal person could have identified it, but the Cerberus frame grabber - still in place - picked up a three-quarter view, and her greybox picked it out as _Frigate/Cerberus/Normandy/Shepard._

The inaccuracies were a plaintive commentary on her situation. She updated it to _Frigate/Alliance/Normandy/? _ and began wending her way home again till her subconscious, not an implant, pinged her attention; that thing was going impossibly _fast_. What sort of emergency was there?

She was still thinking about it when the second ship went overhead. The frame grabber got that too, and the greybox picked it _again_ as _Frigate/Alliance/Normandy/?_ No, never! But her mind had been grossly dicked over. Not so much she couldn't recall the indoctrination procedures for the Alliance doctors, which had saved her life, not that she cared any more.

On the other hand, the grabber image on comparison showed subtle differences, like the lack of _SR2_ pennant and a stylized _AD_ in its place. Jana cautiously created a new manual entry, _Frigate/?/?/?_.

She'd managed to avoid the suicide chip but in those last days she'd watched those around TIM being seized by the white guard and planted face down on their desks and injected at the base of the skull before being carted off to Induction. In those last few seconds before _her_ arms were grabbed and _she_ bent over from a shove between the shoulder blades, she _screamed _at him to remember his pledge, but he, it, had just smiled at her.

Another vanishingly short metallic flash. _Frigate/Turian/?/?_.

She could no longer be sure of her mental integrity. So she stood in the middle of the recovery road, and stared at the sky.

* * *

_Beyond the Thunderdome_

The traffic controller in Luna City swore violently as the _third_ bloody frigate shot over the dome at two hundred metres, ticking off five thousand klicks _and accelerating_. Noiselessly, of course. With at least thirty metres clearance. But dammit, the bloody radar controller VI crashed _again_! Just clicked into safe mode! And, one day there would be an _antenna._ Or a bigger dome, fer chrissake, they'd only just joined all the temporary fields into a single paraboloid shell again and the magnalloy struts were a bitch to fabricate. Whatever, this was dangerous crap, it was happening within the city control corridor, and _someone_ was going to _pay_.

"_What's holding up __those bloody transponder IDs, dammit!"_

"_I got 'em, Petrovsky."_

"_Well__ then, who _were_ these idiots__?_

"_That last one was _Peacemaker_, boss. Turian registry. Diplomatic pouch, we can file a complaint but it'll go nowhere."_

"_Crap. Crappity crapdoodle. What about the one before?"_

"Overlord_, boss."_

"_File a DOT complaint."_

"_Um ... you might want to reconsider that, boss."_

"_What!? Why?"_

"_Registry ID's owner and captain as Miranda Lawson, first officer is Christopher Toombs. Lawson's the woman who inherited a fifty billion credit fortune, remember? She's got high-up friends on the Council. And I've heard of Toombs."_

"_Her enforcer. Yeah. 'He's got thresher maw blood in his veins,' what crap, but I don't want to file a writ against someone who can hire an army of asari lawyers. What about the first one? Who the hell's on _that?_"_

"_Erm ... you're not going to like this either, boss ... it's _Normandy_, the captain's a spectre, the passenger manifest shows ranking flag officers, and uh, there's a supercargo ..."_

* * *

_Dog __day __afternoon_

"_Right_, who do I shoot first?"

"Don't shoot them, Miranda, we're in a pressurized hull. Knife them, or space them."

Yoof had thought his mouth was dry before. Right now he would have preferred to be back on Earth, in the clink, _anywhere_ but in the pilot's seat, especially since the VI was handling the transfer orbit from L-2 to S-1. The way that bald woman said the word _knife_ gave Yoof a prickly feeling in his gizzard.

"Uh, Captain, we've only got another minute and a half before transit through S-1."

"_Dammit, _Yoof, I thought you'd learned your lesson in that bloody jail cell. What speed?"

"Real Slow this time, Captain, we come out at S-2 and then we've got to pootle half-way around a five-kilometre asteroid to engage N-1 ..."

He'd _seen_ Lawson use a knife, more exactly, an omni-blade, when they were ambushed in Shanghai. Jack cast a biotic shield and said "After you, ma'am." Yoof didn't _think_ Lawson had used biotics, or drawn her gun, but no ordinary human moves that fast. She took the wavy-edge blade off the first mugger and used it on his pals, excepting one. After which, she asked the survivor, once, who the boss was. In Hakka. He'd spat at her. Lawson and Jack took him into a dark alley for 'tickling'. There hadn't been any laughter, or indeed any noise.

Lawson and Jack had come back briefly, then bundled them (but not Zabaleta and Toombs) into a shuttle. The pilot was some evilly scarred turian, who'd stayed. Yoof had to fly the shuttle back. Then he'd picked Lawson, Jack, and the turian up from the _Bund_ six hours later. There was no conversation on the way back.

They'd been in Shanghai four more days, and not _once_ did they have _any __more __trouble at all_.

Jack kept the mugger's wavy knife on her cabin wall now. In a wooden box. It looked a little different. It was cleaner. There was a flickery glint to the edge. There was a plaque, "_In case of emergency, break glass._"

Yoof very much did not want to be an emergency. Lawson was in a killing mood. Toombs had seen this before, but he couldn't keep his trap shut this time, because after all he was the XO and he _had_ given permission ...

"_... _so_ what _in_ God's _name inspired you to chase _Normandy!"_

"It was for the honor of the boat. Of the team. Leave him alone, Lawson, I told him he could, and we passed _Normandy _half a minute ago. We waggled the airfoils but it's like they lost interest, they're still trailing, going slow too."

Now _Toombs_ was the focus of two outraged pairs of eyes, but he'd faced a thresher maw. Any day was a bad day to die. It had to happen one day.

"Toombs. You realize Rodriguez didn't get her crash webbing on in time?"

Yoof's brow furrowed. "That can't be right, ma'am, I saw the green telltale."

Jack _purred_ at him, "She's a _klutz_, sometimes. We're _working_ on that. She didn't _lock_ it properly."

Zabaleta indulged his suicide bump. "Even so, Jack, the board was green and transit made no excessive G-force."

"No, but there _might_ have been!"

At that exact moment, a blue flash zipped past the shutters, about a hundred metres off, and a refined voice crackled over TBS: "_So long, sucker__rrrrs, __see you at S-2__." _

The effect on Miranda was magical. "_Yoof_, OUT of that seat, NOW."

* * *

_Overdog_

Tali was in the maintenance shed when _Peacemaker_ came through S-2.

"_Keelah! _What's the Transponder ID on that thing?"

"_Ne__w __T__ransit/__Peacemaker/Bellerophon, pilot_"

"I don't _believe_ it. Give me that comm. _Relay S-2 shed to _Peacemaker_, Garrus, what the hell do you think you__'__r__e_ up _to?_"

"_Later, Tali, tell me fast, what's the co-ordinates for the N-1 relay?"_

"_It's on the other side of the asteroid from the S-2 relay you just came through, you lunatic!"_

"_Spirits! Bellerophon, do a one-eighty, NOW, don't argue. Ready FTL, minimum jump, thirty thousand klicks ..."_

At this point Tali's attention was caught by the relay VI flicking up another transit acceptance: _Ne__w __T__ransit/__Overlord/Lawson, pilot__. _What the hell? _You bosh'tet! _Lawson!_? _

"GARRUS! _There's another __frigate__ coming through in ... forty-two seconds, one second after predicted relay reset. Clear the exit field!"_

"_Bugger! How long will it take to circumnavigate the asteroid?"_

"_Typically twenty minutes on angled thrusters. Garrus, you owe me an explanation –"_

"_Later babe, duty calls. FTL engage!" _And the link was cut. _Peacemaker _reverse-jumped thirty thousand kilometres. It would take at least quarter of an hour in balls-out safeties-off mode to get into position for N-1.

Meanwhile, Tali had a few seconds to collect her thoughts. Clearly, Garrus was in some kind of trouble. Or Miranda. Or both. Confound the man, he didn't give a damn about regulations any more.

Tali picked up the comm and prepared to give the incoming vessel a piece of her mind. But the next vessel that came through _instantly _went to full angled thruster power, and began screaming around the asteroid circumference an order of magnitude faster than usual. There was a rainbow warping of the droplet cloud field. It was insane, marvellous, staggeringly beautiful. That craft was manipulating the mass effect fields _and_ thrusters simultaneously.

Obviously, Miranda wasn't too fussy about the rules either.

For a short time, Tali forgot about tearing a strip off and just watched the video feeds. Was Lawson really piloting that thing? This was genius. Even a computer couldn't combine the mass effect core and the thrusters like this. Well, it could, but you'd have to rewrite half the industry-standard safety rules.

Seven minutes later, the relay VI blinked at her again, showing "_Ne__w __T__ransit/__Normandy__/__Cortez, pilot__". _

"_Garrus, abort! The relay's in use again!"_

"_Oh, nooooo!" _Then she heard her now not-so-favourite turian utter some quite remarkable profanities. Time to apply a little needle.

"_Really, Garrus, it's perfectly safe to back off and start again."_

The relay VI pinged at her. _Overlord_ had just entered the N-1 relay.

* * *

_Dogged persistence_

Cortez calmly ran a minimum-energy thruster orbit of the S-2 moonlet as _Normandy _punctually exited the relay. All passengers were still safely webbed down except two of the important ones. Oh, the captain too.

"Dammit, Cortez, can't you make this thing go any faster?"

"Why, yes, I most certainly can, Commander, but for some reason there are regulations against the necessary measures."

"_Cortez."_

"I believe there's a man in his bunk in the crew quarters who could do your bidding, ma'am."

Ashley turned and looked at the Admirals. They had the most amazing poker faces, except Hannah's face was quivering, she'd burst out laughing soon. No help there. Right. Extreme measures appear to be called for.

"Yeoman! Go unbuckle the Councilor and let her know she's _invited_ to a special display, military power passage of the Nest chain. Copeland! Go dig Joker out of his bunk."

"But ma'am, he's pretty low right now. He's just curled up in a ball."

"Tell him the Alliance expects every man to do his duty."

* * *

_First D__og_

_Captain __Coats__. __Three frigates just transited N-5. __Hail__s__ from _Normandy_, _Overlord_, _Peacemaker_, __in that order,__ flag on _Normandy_. Flag Officers requesting permission to board. _

_Permission granted. __Normandy to dock one. __ Notify Lawson and Vakarian of __next vacant__ docking stations. _

Hackett and Shepard trailed behind the Councilor on the way to their quarters, as Tevos described to her enthralled secretary the marvelous sensations of tunnel vision through a ring ice field, and passing through the upper clouds of a superjovian's moon, heading at flank speed for a pinnacle topped by a relay above those clouds.

"I don't know, Hannah, did we make a mistake giving them their own ships?"

"Steven, it's quite obviously a master-stroke. You are such a silly man sometimes."

Saturday, December 28, 2013 -7/7-


	31. Abyss to cradle

**After Dark**

_Speak, Mnemosyne_

_Begin. _

The first awareness was not of dark. The first impression was not vision.

_Thiopental withdrawn_

Before the dark had been a void.

_Can we have__ more ligh__t_

From the void, rhythm

_Brain stem activity on 15O PET_

Senses pieced themselves together from a dreamless, timeless state.

_Low-dose midozalam__ o__ff__ IV please_

Touch came

_Softly, now, Kelly_

Many touches

_Snip, don't pull_

After touch came cold

_We're up to thirty-five, Karin, slow down_

After cold came smell

_Alcohol swab, please_

Reaction, not reflection, as yet no thought was in being

_Getting EEG here, burst suppression dwindling, deltas_

Mind began, a small, scuttling focus creeping between grays

_Too fast, that's the last line, keep it there for five minutes_

There could be neither dark nor light where there was neither sight, nor the memory of sight, nor any word for sight, nor any words at all

_L__et the blood chemistry settle, __Michel_

The inchoate roar of raw _HEARING! _A black sun in a dusty disk!

_Theta spiking! Ready. Propofol IV, getting REM here, incipient seizures, tremor_

The singing left the ears, the swarming left the eyes, mind travelled a valley path, misty trees presenting to the mind's eye.

_Slow down. Wait for REM to go away._

Mind within mind. The pale fire had gone. Following the boy now, the glassy ghost, on the valley path, opening to the grey forest, the light grew, a boy on a seat. The ghost came to the boy, turned in the new day, sat in the boy and the boy's eyes opened. **I'm still here, Shepard.** The red light grew but the world was _WHITE._

"That's it, REM's over."

Where were the docks? There was someone he had to see. He mumbled. Lips numb.

"Shepard, I'm here. We're here."

That voice. He tried to open his eyes, just had a grey glimmer, the lids were sticking. A warm cloth passed over, licked the mucus from the corners, now there were green eyes looking back.

"_Kelly?" _He tried to raise his left hand, someone took it. Blue eyes, tears? _"Miranda."_

"We're here." Oh. _Oh. _He couldn't see her, but -

"_Mom?"_

Sunday, December 29, 2013 -1/2-


	32. Christmas present

**After Dark**

_Dura __p__ater_

They left the man with his mother for a few minutes. The doctors had shoo'd out Lawson and Chambers – _"He's still groggy, come back in ten."_

Miranda was a little put out. What were they going to give him, adrenaline? Kelly thought it wiser not to ask.

"I suppose they had to chase us off." Miranda had a catch in her voice. Kelly turned, and was about to say something, but stopped: "Whoa, wait up –", reached out, wiped the corner of Miranda's left eye; the tissue was moist. Then Miranda returned the favor, whispering: _"__Can't see Hackett looking like this."_

"_We're going to see Hackett?"_

Miranda sighed. _"Betcha he's in the corridor."_

Oh dear. The boss? Right now?

"_Damn it. __He's not a cybernetic superman anymore."_

Miranda had echoed Kelly's exact thoughts; introducing the world slowly to Shepard seemed like a better plan. But the devil was driving. _"__Anything can happen in the next half an hour. The Admiralty __will __want to know what went down."_

"_His mother could ask!" _

Kelly had seen that coming. Miranda had never had a mother.

"_Hannah will have other things to debrief."_ Odd, how Miranda had blind spots. But then, so many people did. You just had to make allowances and keep antennae fluttering.

Outside the door, no Hackett. Miranda tugged at Kelly's elbow. _"C__ommissary."_ Indeed, the Admiral of the Fleet was taking coffee from the service VI. The place was deserted; suddenly Kelly realized there would be guards at a perimeter.

"Ladies, please take a seat, I won't keep you long." Miranda squeezed her elbow briefly. _Told you_.

"Admiral, the patient is awake and, so far, appears as well as might be expected."

Hackett simply nodded. He did not ask what Shepard had to say about any particular matter.

"That's a relief. Can I ask two things. In your professional opinion ... Ms Lawson, first, will he recover a normal level of fitness?"

"Admiral, I'm not a qualified doctor."

"Ms Lawson, give Liara some credit. You've had years of medical, neurological, and biophysical training in various schools around the Galaxy. I've had the benefit of input from Chakwas and Michel about you. Your opinion, please."

"He will recover preliminary fitness, given a decent exercise regime, in three to eight months, depending on the progress of bone stimulation and reinforcement."

"So at that time he will be up to N7 standards?"

"Yes, Admiral, but if you want Alliance or Cerberus commando implants, that will take longer. The visual taps are in place for a grey box, but the spinal links have not so far made contact. I don't expect them to for another two months. Even then, the implant tech isn't available on Earth any more."

"Perhaps the Citadel? We also have Jana's cooperation, now."

"That's a possibility ... actually, could I have her on _Overlord_? I've only got Zabaleta."

"I don't see why not, but she hasn't been formally pardoned. The council would choke on it at this point. She's in Limbo."

Kelly had heard of Limbo. It was on the moon somewhere. She'd thought she'd wind up there. Mikhailovich had described it as a _sharashka_.

"That doesn't matter, sir. I've raided your brig for a third of my crew. Brooks can stew for a while longer, by the way, I want Chambers on her case first. I think I _know _what happened with Jana, and I'll take the risk. If she turns out well ..."

"Then we'll see."

"That's the best I could ask for. The only persons _outside_ Cerberus who I _know_ could help with actually setting implants to the taps were on Sur'kesh. I can't call on Mordin any more."

"Fair enough. I don't actually want him back in the saddle, you realize. He's done enough. It'll be good to have his input at the Nest, but only a dozen people in the fleet know he's here, and they're all on this ship, including Coats. John wouldn't be able to help Mikhailovich significantly."

Miranda's exhalation of relief was quite audible. Now Kelly felt Hackett's full attention on _her_.

"So, missy. Does he know yet?"

* * *

_Christmas presents_

Propped up it was possible to see he still had the full complement of arms and legs. Proprioception and a feeling of touch weren't always reliable indicators of that.

He'd experimented a little, tilting his head, bringing his hands together, conscious of three pairs of softly focused, brightly colored eyes also evaluating his performance. He'd had five perfunctory welcome-back kisses. No-one seemed able to trust themselves to speak. He himself could barely croak names to start, but a little water had helped.

Hackett had "passed by." Uh huh. There were more questions than there was time to ask, never mind get answers, but apparently they'd 'won' for a given value of victory. Well, the catalyst had warned him about tech. The worst bit was the geth ... and EDI, because that was more personal, though she was only one person.

By now Karin Chakwas had left, bearing confidential reports of resurrection (said his mom) to "Jeff." Moreau was here? Where _was_ here? And apparently Ash was in charge of _Normandy_ now. He should feel outraged, but that took too much energy. They'd removed the last of the bandages and lines. All he had on was some loose papery overtunic, open at the back. It had been a bit chilly. Chakwas had given him something with water and pulled up blankets. He felt fine now.

Apparently Kelly really _was_ a nurse, though they could have found a better-fitting uniform. She had taken a sterile tray to a cleaning bench in the adjacent theater, but Michel took it from her and whispered something in her ear. She came and sat in the chair to his left, took his hand, and checked his pulse. Didn't let go of his hand.

Miranda was at the foot of the bed, now, telling tales. She and Garrus had newer versions of _Normandy_. She'd called hers _Overlord_. He'd laughed so hard it hurt, Chloe Michel (clearing away equipment tables) had looked daggers, but had no support. His mom had got the joke. "Nurse" had intuited that there _was_ a joke.

"Well ... maybe I haven't died and gone to heaven. But this is a pretty good substitute."

Hannah didn't openly react to that, but took his other hand. In the other room, Michel quietly finished policing the sterile trays and closed an autoclave.

His mother was on a high stool to his right. "Liara doesn't know it yet, but she's getting a present too. Tevos has said the asari republics will pay an extraordinary sum for just one frigate."

"What brought _that_ on?"

"Sitting in the co-pilot's seat when Joker's in a hurry. Let's just say Moreau's been posted here and we all had one last wild ride."

"He cheated," said Miranda, making a _moue._ "He's been tuning a VI with some of EDI's hardware. I did my best but he just had finer control of balancing mass effect and thrusters around the difficult gates. He pipped me at the last relay. I had to go around again. Still beat Vakarian, though."

"Can it talk? The VI, I mean."

"Yes, but it ... has no soul. It's not the same. I have some ideas about that."

No-one had said much about Reapers, even Hackett. This was probably good. They were all apparently happy to have him there, though surely not as happy as he was to have them, but there didn't appear to be any spinal cybernetics active at all, never mind working implants. Just as well ... unless there was something to that last nightmare. Shepard cleared his throat.

"Miranda. I owe you. Again." Lawson shook her head, but she was smiling. "I can't repay, but if there's something I can do..." She still seemed to have some trouble speaking.

"Okay. Nurse..." – he peered at the name badge – "..._oops_. Mom, this –"

"Yes, I know."

"Look, I might not be in my right mind. There was the old nightmare, or something like it, when I came to ... the boy ... it's a long story, I'll tell you later, but the upshot is the catalyst said it's _still here_."

Kelly gave him an old-fashioned look. "John. You're you. I'd know, otherwise." Hannah nodded. _H__m__m_.

Miranda did give it some consideration. "It's probably just a coma nightmare, Shepard. Quite common, exiting induced comas." Chloe, leaning against the door, agreed. Hannah had no interest in the possibility of psychosis. She fastened on the boy.

"The Catalyst. It's a person? You spoke to it? Is it on the side of the Reapers?"

Shepard looked thoughtful. "No. It had its own agenda. The Reapers were only a means to that end."

"It didn't care about who died, or how, or how many?"

"Hard to say. It said the Crucible changed things, including itself. It really wanted to live, I think, and there was only one outcome that would do that, but I wasn't having any. It did tell me what had to be done to kill the Reapers. I'd already worked it out, but ..."

"Never mind, John. My gut says we won. If there _are_ any alive where this little fleet is going, we'll deal with it. Look, we're getting into difficult territory. We'll think about this again after dinner._"_

"_I _quite agree," said Dr Michel in a no-nonsense voice. "Everybody out except ... Kelly. Shepard, you need rest. Nurse will stay to monitor ... things."

Shepard wasn't the world's best people person, but he could tell he was in trouble when the bloody women exchanged looks.

* * *

_Pia mater_

"So ... nurse, huh?" He accepted a plastic cup to go with pills.

"Er ... yes. I sat my RN exams two weeks ago. Chakwas says she'll pay my tuition for med school, but ..."

"You don't want to go."

"I don't think I'm smart enough."

Shepard nearly spat out his meds. When he had his diaphragm under control again, he looked up. She actually looked _cross_.

"Sweet heart ... come here."

She sat on the high stool, with a mutinous expression on her extraordinarily beautiful face. It was sexy as hell.

"Even I can tell ... look, don't mind me. Pay attention to Chakwas. What does Chloe say?"

"She says I'd be wasted as an ordinary doctor. Don't know what _that's _all about."

"I think I get her drift. Look, you should do it anyway. You don't have to be an _ordinary_ doctor."

Kelly sighed. "That's all a bit academic, anyway."

"Why?"

Shepard watched in fascination as some sort of internal struggle came to a decision. Kelly slowly stepped off the high stool, and removed her cloak.

Then her uniform tunic. And her shoes. blouse ... it gradually dawned on Shepard that this was not a prelude to the normal sort of dance. He reached, took her hand, and pulled her to his side. Kissed her expanded belly.

"Still hot, as ever."

"Oh, you."

"Is it a boy, or a girl?"

"I've been careful not to ask."

He kissed her again, and let go her hand. She picked up her clothes, paused, put them down again. Took off her bra, and her panties, standing beside his bed, almost nude.

"What _are_ you doing?"

"What Chloe said. Monitoring things."

She got on the bed and snuggled in beside him.

"You forgot the cap."

"I'm kinky. And on duty."

Sunday, December 29, 2013 -6/6-


	33. The Bartered

**After Dark**

_Hard __Bargains_

Sparatus and Victus followed Garrus and Riley through the dock access to an honor guard. Once formally on board, Sparatus' first priority was to find the asari councilor, but Overlord was docked on the far side of _Orizaba_ and the groups didn't meet till 1700 military time, nearly two hours after arrival, for a light repast where dextro- and laevo- snacks were served.

Hackett looked unusually relaxed. Tevos had described her journey in breathless detail, then approached Victus regarding a _Normandy_-class frigate for the council, cost no object. This could have been a problem; the dock had only produced six, split between the human and turian military. Four were already commissioned. The dock's schedule didn't allow for further builds till late next year.

Sparatus was definite that the unassigned turian vessel would be needed for assisting allies such as Wrex and the Volus – finding potential temporary colonies nearby, for example. For the next couple of centuries or however long it took to properly knit the galaxy back together. Tevos looked very disappointed. Vakarian went with Riley to Hackett and had a private word.

The result was fascinating; Hackett conferred with his senior staff (Coats, Shepard senior, Mikhailovich) and let it be known that since they had _Normandy_ it would not be unacceptable for the last human frigate to be reassigned to the asari military. Vakarian and Victus advised that heavy hints about money and crew had been dropped.

After some negotiation, it was determined that the asari would defray the costs of _two _frigates to be built at the end of the next accounting cycle. Since one human ship had gone to an independent mercenary group, the asari captain should be civilian, which was actually appropriate for a Councilor's ship. It was very strongly suggested that the captain should be Dr Liara T'Soni, and the executive officer should be asari military; Hackett suggested Coreen Lemaes, in whom he had confidence.

These conditions were accepted, and made Councilor Tevos very happy. The only difficulty was that Dr T'Soni could not be immediately notified; she was in conference. Admiral Shepard undertook to let her know.

* * *

_Hard Lessons_

Sparatus, Victus, and Vakarian met in a secure bubble around _Peacemaker's_ conference room.

"Don't blame yourself for letting _Overlord_ and _Normandy_ beat us here, Vakarian."

"It's hard, sir."

"You didn't do a trial run the way _Overlord_ did – there was too much fitting out of the blitz pod to finish – and the _Normandy_ pilot has been this way many times."

"But I should have anticipated it wouldn't be plain sailing."

Victus shook his head. Only Vakarian had been in the co-pilot's seat during transit, but Victus and Sparatus had a memorable view from stations set up in the lounge.

"You did well. Why is the geometry of the relays so difficult?"

"That's restricted. Human-classified, but not at high-level. I can tell _you_, but it should not leave this bubble. It is something I want to chase up, though. About these relays."

"Yes?"

"They're going to have strong encryption and IFF. Also there's an out-of-band command and control channel. The IFF is to be permissive until hostilities begin. The clear implication is, there's potential for using reconfigurable relays as a trap for pursuing Reaper forces."

"Ah. Any other little surprises up their sleeves?"

Vakarian hesitated: "Riley's been told to ensure we have our IFF updated by the end of this watch. But there's more. I can feel they're keeping _something_ back. It seems to be on a need-to-know basis, T'Soni just said _later_. In twenty minutes, at the end of the current watch, there's a ways-and-means conference chaired by Coats."

That was the current captain of this ship, _Orizaba_.

"But that's probably just concerned with fleet movement details, they've finished with offshoots from N-5 and are looking to advance the main stem again. Few stars exist this far out of the galactic plane. But they've got frigates and cruisers scouting out rogue gas giants with magnetic fields so the FTL cores can be discharged."

"Understood." This matched Sparatus' discussions with asari and salarian staff.

"Both Hackett and Admiral Shepard are heading back to Sol system in..." – Victus checked his omni-tool – "two and a half hours, at the end of the next watch period. Hackett's moving on to Arcturus after that."

"Are we returning to Earth also?"

"It would be advisable, Councilor, though there's time if you or Vakarian have people you need to see. Coats for example is on the skeleton crew this week."

Vakarian agreed. "_Peacemaker_ really should be undocked not long after _Normandy_."

"What are your immediate plans, Vakarian?"

"I could check on Wrex next. The Krogan cold-sleep ships are a twelfth of the way to Tuchanka. But he won't like being woken up. In my opinion, and the Primarch concurs, after we've ferried you back it's time for _Peacemaker _to join T'Soni. When she's not being a taxi for Tevos, she's on some classified project the humans needed asari help with. Maybe she'll eventually spill the beans."

"The Shadow Broker? Not likely."

"As you say, Primarch. But Liara's asked for some company. She's never commanded a spacecraft bigger than a shuttle before, Lemaes is as much in the dark, and there's a doctrine evolving that exploration frigates should proceed in pairs."

"One cloaked, one scanning, right."

"When we're done with asari projects, we'll visit here again at the fleet's next stop."

"Where's that?" asked Sparatus.

"_Orizaba_ and the rest of the fleet will be proceeding to the N-6 waypoint, which means in a little over eight hours nearly all the crew will be in cold sleep, for some time."

Garrus nodded. "Humans don't live any longer than we do. The next leg of the track will take over two months by FTL."

* * *

_Soft_ _Lessons_

An antenna quivered.

_Seventeen __fifty__. Time to wake him properly, before _I_ fall asleep __too__. Disengage _here_ from _there_ ... right_.

"We are about to have a domestic."

"Wha?" _Very groggy John. No implants_.

"Do bear in mind, your bones aren't as solid as they could be. Pain in your tendons will help tell you when you're at risk."

"Wait, what?" _Wow, that was fast waking. __Soldier stuff?_

Kelly slid off the bed and began dressing. "We have about ten minutes before the shift change and we can expect visitors. Doctors, at least, visitors, probably." _Panties, good. __Stockings, there they are_.

"Watch change. It's not a shift, it's a watch. I guess it wouldn't do to find nurse in bed with patient." _That's the bra done. Lower tunic, blouse_.

This got him a smooch on the cheek. "Indeed not. It would amuse your mother, I think, but Chloe would dine out on the story for years." _Upper tunic, hurry now. Hat fell off, oops_. _Wait for it_.

"How about wife?"

_Bingo._ Kelly looked around, watching John's reactions from the corner of her eye. She couldn't see a suitably inconspicuous corner.

"Not marrying you." _Cloak._

!

"Still not quite the done thing, anyway." _Sterile feet. Going to have to tell the room's VI to lightly disinfect._

_!?_

"Told you we'd have a domestic." _Oh dear, John looks very sad_. She took one rapid step towards him, big smooch. Finger on lips. "It's not you, not really."

This was a very compact trauma centre. Everything folded into neat cupboards. Well, she'd just have to wing it. _You never know what that bad lot Michel will do. I predict Liara. Probably not Garrus, hope not, could be awkward_.

John wasn't so sad, now. _Good. More ... thoughtful. Uh oh_.

"What do I have to do? Stop being a soldier?"

He'd got to the bottom of that _awfully_ fast.

"Well, yes ... but no. Because then you wouldn't be you."

Petulant expression. _Well that's better than those wounded eyes_.

"I can't be a soldier, and I can't not be a soldier." He was looking a little grim. "But women live longer than men anyway, and I'm older than you to begin with. Statistically, you'd be a widow one day even if I wasn't a soldier."

"Please. We'd be different people then. Right now, the loss would kill me. Better not to have you in the first place. And I know someone who wouldn't be put off by that."

"Suppose I put down all the Reapers."

"I will not be the reason for Reapercide. It's still a form of genocide. And there would always be some new threat."

Now it was his turn for a sigh. "I'm not going to win this, am I?

"Not at this time."

"But we'll be different people one day."

"John, you haven't been listening, and we're running out of time. I have to go back to Earth soon. I want you to look out for Miranda."

"Miranda!?"

"Yes. She's becoming a little ... antisocial. Be careful of her please. She's important to you, and you're important to her."

"Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"Just make sure she has something to live for. She's not taking risks exactly. But I don't think she cares any more."

There was a very diffident knock at the door, which meant someone was being diplomatic, since the access panel showed green. _That bloody Chloe set me up_.

Kelly shook her head, tearing up. _Need tissues_. "John, I know I can't have you. You won't come home one day. Although, actually ..."

She approached the bed and crouched so her face was level with his.

"... you can always have _me_. Any time at all. Okay?"

John was nodding slowly. "Where's home?"

Tuesday, December 31, 2013 -1/5-


	34. Second Dog Watch

**After Dark**

_Baker's dozen_

Almost the first thing Liara noticed was that Shepard's face was set and pensive at first.

Some of that was surely pain. Grafts and bones were still knitting. Chakwas and Michel had been careful to emphasize that he would be delicate for weeks, he would not be properly fit for duty for months, and no-one had a plan for implants.

But he was still strong enough for a quick embrace, and grew more animated as the little trauma recovery room filled (standing room only for a dozen, not counting the patient).

Coats shook hands. They spoke of the last moments with the catalyst and crucible. She and Hannah had picked up on the boy hallucination. They did extract a few extra minutes after Dr Michel clucked about tired patient and threatened to close the proceedings, the excuse being that Liara had promised Javik she'd relay the details ASAP.

At the very end she snatched a private second as all around were being bundled out, bent over, getting his undivided attention, and whispered: _"Shepard. When you're feeling well, come and see me. We'll __figure out__ the boy."_

Then she turned away, and noticed in the far corner the nurse, fending off gentle probing from Williams, trying to be inconspicuous. Turned back again. "_And __you will tell me __why, exactly, Kelly is __so __miserable."_

* * *

_Bellerophon_

Clearly Vakarian was not in a good mood. There was multitasking on top of the usual stress of departure. Orders were being _snapped_, mostly regarding accommodation changes, while he was fencing with a stream of loading orders too.

"Sir? Can I help?"

"Ah. Bellerophon, just the man, handle these bunking issues would you? Apparently there's supercargo besides the Primarch ..."

It turned out that on the return leg Sparatus would be travelling with _Normandy_, swapping with Tevos. There was also a turian female diplomat known to Vakarian.

"Those two might be comfortable in the XO's office, that means _I'm_ not just turfed from my cabin in the loft, but even the comfortable XO berth. Also it complicates the bloody food stores. There are four more _laevo_ personnel, organize something suitable for, say, five days from the _Orizaba_ purser."

"Sir. I'll get on to the supplies. That's unfortunate about the berth."

Actually Bellerophon felt it was good for an illustrious general to recall how the _hoi polloi_ live.

"So you will be with us in the crew quarters, sir?"

"Regrettably not, Bellerophon. I will set up a crash webbing bunk in the gunnery, next to the Thanix cannon. Just like old times, really."

So much for dreams of seeing a general bunking with the ensigns. A crash webbing bunk in that space would be a harsh, cramped existence. That was old times? Incredible.

"About those other _laevo_ passengers. Since Councilor Tevos will be with us, so will Dr Liara T'Soni, her science adviser and a personal friend of mine; along for the trip also is Dr Karin Chakwas who will be in the med bay, and Dr Michel, another old friend."

"That's _good_ news, surely, sir?"

"It is indeed the _only_ good news I've had this trip. Unfortunately, Chakwas and Michel will be accompanied also by a nurse, and _she_ is ... well I suspect some sort of traitor. Cerberus-flavored poison. My idea of proper accommodation would involve an airlock."

"Have you told the Primarch about this, sir?"

"Of course. At length. He promised to look into it with Hackett, and since then he won't discuss it with me._"_

"Well damn. But it can't be important. Cerberus is dead and gone, and all the prisoners are, well, prisoners. Why isn't this person in Limbo, though?"

"That's a damn good question, pilot, but the fact is she got out before the Cerberus coup."

"That wouldn't stop her being detained, sir, though maybe not for long. Weren't you telling me the engineers in Normandy were in prison for a while?"

This visibly brought Vakarian up short. "Yes. They were. They got Spectre pardons. But _she_ was never detained at all."

"Sir, my father was in the Imperial Intelligence Service–"

"–I'm aware of that, Pilot. It's not without bearing on your current post."

"All I'm saying, sir, is this stinks of double agent stuff. You should check the pardon lists. Also, did the engineers get Alliance pardons as well as Council ones?"

"Well, they must have, I guess. They're on duty now."

"Did _she?_ You might find out she wasn't _just_ a Cerberus spy. Sir."

"Suppose she's not on the lists? We assume she's still a spy?"

"No, sir. With respect, I don't think you've thought this through. Have you actually checked? If she's _on_ the lists, _she's not a spy any more."_

"So you're saying if she's _not_ on the pardon lists, she _may or may not_ be an agent of someone."

"Or some two."

"She'll have a primary allegiance, surely."

"Yes, but double agents don't appear on pardon lists till they're well and truly burned or retired, and not always even then, because someone might work out what side they were _really_ on, or who their handler was. They try very hard not to appear on any list at all. People with grudges might come after them. Do _you_ have a grudge, sir?"

Now Vakarian actually looked a bit shaken, but recovered quickly.

"That is all by the by. Of immediate importance, Pilot, I have transfer instructions for _you_. By direction of the Primarch and for the good of the service, you will be detached from duty with this vessel on arrival at the Citadel, and seconded to the asari diplomatic corps."

"_Sir!_"

"Can the outrage, Flying Officer Bellerophon, trust me, this is a good career move and a really truly juicy assignment, and it comes with a promotion ... Flight Lieutenant. Clear?

"Aye aye Sir." It seemed safe to say that.

"The only downside is that you will be training a number of asari commandos, and Dr T'Soni, in piloting a frigate – the same way you've been training the watch officers and me for the last four months. The asari don't have trained personnel in-system, except for the _Destiny Ascension_ and _Cybaen_, which were with Hackett's fleet. Nearly all the rest of the asari fleet got through the relay network to Thessia before it imploded behind them."

"That's a lot of training and I feel barely competent myself. What class frigate sir? There will be differences in handling."

"No, there won't. There's been a backroom deal brokered by the Primarch. The asari are getting one of the three _Normandy_-class frigates intended for humans. Which means by the way that there will be diplomatic liaison in the form of a certain retired Colonel called back to service. _'Name of Tactus, you've met him, a good man, __not a __career __diplomat__, but very experienced with non-turians, Councilor'_."

"Ah. I think I see. Well, sir, I guess he's my first point of contact."

"Not quite. The Primarch _has_ called a confidential briefing with asari and human staff after we're under way. I've been kept out of the loop so far; I wish to hell I could tell you what's going on, but I don't know myself. I'm supposed to be there. So we'll see."

"I'll try to navigate my way through that loop, sir."

"Good man."

* * *

_Victus_

As Garrus entered the access way to the small conference room , the Primarch stirred. A soft chime told off 21:00.

"Right on time, Vakarian."

"The ship VI reminded me. It's an odd feeling being spoken to by a machine in _turian_, again."

"We've had to move the briefing into the war room, the Colonel's assembling the others there. So there's you, me, _and_ the asari councilor, as well as T'Soni. Tactus, and the three humans. Chakwas, and her team."

"I see Colonel Tactus isn't here yet. The humans ... why _did_ you invite the medics?"

"I think you're under a misapprehension, General. _They've_ called the meeting, at Hackett's behest. I imagine Michel and Hannigan, along with Tactus, are present as witnesses. Hackett gave a description of the events surrounding Councilor Anderson's death and the firing of the Crucible some months ago, if you recall."

"Yes, sir. I was there. Chloe Michel filled in a few of the blanks rather vividly, to the extent she could. There was a tiff between Lawson and Hannigan, Chambers, take your pick. You know all this, sir. Oh, and Williams won't post Shepard's name _in memoriam_. Not a lot Tactus hadn't already told us, except for the postscript about Shepard badly off but still breathing, sort of."

"That may be about to change. A short time ago the Alliance war graves commission quietly removed his name from the list of MIA but did not list him as KIA, and the media are bound to notice soon."

"Spirits. That's twice now."

"Not really General, by all accounts he was never clinically dead this time."

"Where is he?"

"We still don't know. But twenty minutes ago I received a hand-delivered _paper _note from Hackett's operations officer. Here."

Garrus by now had an effective reading knowledge of formal English, some spoken tuition, and an increasing familiarity with Alliance military culture. Paper was actually still used for some legal purposes, art, and things like this handwritten note. No way this had ever touched any digital archive, except possibly as an image.

_From: Fleet HQ, Admiral Hackett commanding._

_Three copies only. To: Councilors Sparatus, Tevos. cc: Primarch Victus_

_Definitive information has come to light regarding the firing of the Crucible, of which the Council should formally be apprised. _

_For security purposes we propose a formal diplomatic delegation present this information in-flight on board _Peacemaker_, and by QEC to Councilors Valern and Sparatus._

_Delegation comprises: Ensign Chambers, RN. Captain Chakwas, MD, and Commander Michel, MD..."_

The note continued with boring attendance and venue details. It was to be destroyed on completion of the meeting.

"Good. All we've had is dusty answers. I see Chambers is now formally enlisted. Interesting."

"Commissioned, General, not enlisted. Didn't you notice? Medical staff in the Alliance navy above the rank of paramedic are commissioned officers, so that they can tell stroppy sergeants to bend over for a needle and make it stick, literally. You will notice that Chakwas would have formally outranked Shepard, during his command."

"Ah. I stand corrected, Primarch. I was thinking this must mean Chambers has been pardoned."

"Well spotted." Evidently the Primarch _had_ checked the lists, or had someone do it.

"Curious. But mine is not to reason why."

"As you say, General. Now, since Colonel Tactus was closely involved with the events in question, his name is at the top of the list of those whose presence is requested. Sparatus by QEC. Then myself. Next, Tevos and T'Soni. The medical detail including Tactus will be, formally, testifying before the Council."

"Oh. At last. Michel's avoided me for months. I think she's under orders."

"Entirely possible. Speak of the devil ... she's bearing chocolates."

* * *

_Osoba_

"Councilor, there is an urgent priority QEC message from Hackett."

"I'll take it in the secure bubble."

* * *

_Tevos_

The QECs in the adjoining chamber flickered into life. The shades of Valern and Sparatus appeared. Tevos looked back.

"Councilors. Primarch. General. Councilor Osoba has messaged me to say that he has been briefed already. We may proceed."

The comm centre chairs were now fully occupied and turned, like a little amphitheatre.

"Very well. Doctor Chakwas, would you begin?"

"Councilor, I am simply here to ensure the well-being of the delegation head."

A stir, even among the turians. Except for Victus. _Well, well_.

"I beg your pardon. I had gathered you were here to introduce the witnesses. Who, may I ask, speaks for the Alliance Fleet?"

"If you consult the paper notification, Councilor, you will find the first delegate listed is Ensign Chambers. Kelly, would you please stand forth."

The nurse who had accompanied them to N-5 stood and made her way to the central ring. Tevos had been very favorably impressed by this person, but was that the name? She considered the ensign a little more closely.

What was Hackett's intent, for such a junior officer to represent him before the highest authority in the galaxy? Was she a sacrificial lamb, to divert criticism of bad judgment? That would be out of character for Hackett. Furthermore, she had accompanied Admiral Shepard. Status was subtly different from rank … as Matriarch Aethyta showed.

So junior a representative might almost be designed to alienate the proud, in which case it would behove her to be cautious. Sparatus had clearly picked up on this too, standing more formally with hands behind his back. Tevos would not put that past Hackett, but turning the matter over in her mind, decided that Chambers' lack of status was exactly the point.

Too exalted a representative might distract from the message. If so, her message was not to be colored by her own minimal authority. It was to be interpreted in the light of the power she served.

Last time, when Tevos was throwing up on the plane, Chambers had worn the uniform of a civilian registered nurse. Now she met the council wearing the much closer-fitting uniform of an Alliance military nurse, a grey-white tunic with blue cloak. It revealed that she was heavily pregnant.

There had been a lot of that going round, lately, including two of her commandos. It was as though life were re-asserting itself. Tevos wondered idly who the father was. She'd ask T'Soni later. Regardless, Hackett's delegate was ... almost a juvenile, and of the lowest possible officer rank. She caught T'Soni's eye. Liara almost imperceptibly nodded. All right then; we accept this.

Chakwas continued:

"Before I yield to the ensign, Councilor, as the ranking officer on _Peacemaker_ Hackett has asked me to communicate a personal apology. While in our first briefing the facts given were as the Turian fleet staff and Alliance HQ knew them, it was quite quickly determined that the body of Commander Shepard was picked up by a mercenary group and rendered to an Alliance medical centre."

"Why was the council not informed at once!" Valern, as usual. Tevos glared at him; that interruption was a breach of protocol.

"Beyond that, Councilors ..."

Sparatus' QEC image cleared his throat.

"Stand down, Doctor. In fact Councilors, I _was_ officially informed shortly thereafter, though not in writing. In view of the recent incident with the unlicensed clone the turian and human staff felt, and I agreed, that this was Spectre business and should not be made public at the time for security reasons; only those with a need to know were told."

Valern looked far from happy, but that was his normal state. And indeed it _was_ Spectre business. Tevos herself was a little put out, but some carefully qualified hints from T'Soni had kept her from saying things she might have come to regret. Time to pay that debt.

"So, formally, the turians and humans appear to be on a sound footing."

At this point the nurse – Chambers? Spoke for the first time, gripping the handrail:

"That is the position, yes, Councilor Tevos. But there is more. You will be aware that Dr Michel and Colonel Tactus were present when the bodies were discovered. Tactus, Chloe, would you please stand?"

The old turian warrior and the trim Alliance doctor were both familiar figures.

"Yes, I think I recall that. Doctor, Colonel, please be seated."

"You may not be aware, though, that I was present also. Should you require it, we can provide corroboration of each other's testimony to some extent."

"Thank you."

Ensign Chambers took a deep breath and consulted a datapad.

"The first item of business is that Commander John Shepard was, at 1620 hours this day, brought out of coma."

Sensation! Not so much among the Turians. Both Liara and Samara had prepared her for the possibility. But Valern was beside himself.

"What? And this was done without notification?"

"We are notifying you now, Councilor."

"But _after_ the event!"

"Quite right, Councilor. As, I must point out, the Alliance is _absolutely_ entitled to do."

Valern, about to say something, checked himself. Then:

"But Shepard is a Council Spectre."

"Your point being, Councilor?"

"We should have been told!"

"Regrettably, Councilor, you will have to take that up with Commander Shepard when he is sufficiently well. Though I note that the commander was not in a position to say anything to anyone till after the fact. More importantly, your Spectre is also a senior officer in the Alliance military. I must point out that by long custom and practice, the Alliance is not obliged to notify you _at all_ of the details of medical treatment of its officers and men. We do so now from courtesy. I ask you now, and I have been _told_ to ask you, _is that perfectly clear? _"

It must have been. Valern was sputtering in fury. Tevos was enthralled – was that wise in the circumstances? She stole a look at the Primarch, wearing a turian grin, and Sparatus, with difficulty keeping a straight face. And T'Soni was silently clapping. _Very well_.

"It is utterly unacceptable!"

"Then we will have an altogether different sort of conversation. How do you propose to reject it, Councilor?"

The Ensign folded her arms, and waited!

"To begin with, we will revoke Shepard's spectre st–!"

Valern's QEC image was interrupted by a salarian hand offering a datapad. He glanced at it, and looked, clearly shocked, off-camera.

Sparatus filled the silence: "_We will do no such damn fool thing._ Valern, if you must persist in this, call a vote."

Valern handed the datapad back off, and in a much subdued voice, declared: "That will not be necessary. Would you proceed, Ensign."

...

"In conclusion, Councilors, I note that by the time we reach the Citadel there will be something of a media circus. It is not for the Alliance admiralty to determine how this is addressed. Can we ask you to formulate some suitable declaration, with the information provided? Commander Shepard will be recovering his health and may at some point resume diplomatic or spectre duties. The search for Reaper remnants continues unabated. Not quite anodyne platitudes, but calming."

"Indeed. Ensign, Doctor, Colonel; may I say to you all: you have cast much light in dark corners. I thank you for the opportunity to reflect it. Dismissed."

* * *

_Hairspray_

Liara, leaning against the med bay door, looked off to one side a little, and said:

"Here he comes."

"Oh my. Do I look presentable yet?"

"You look very pregnant, and quite gorgeous. I'm positive that pushes a lot of his buttons."

"What buttons– " Garrus asked as he slipped past Liara.

"The big red ones, my dear. Did you try the chocolates?"

"Dammit, Michel, you're enjoying this. And yes, they were delicious, had turian rum in them, I'm a little drunk already. Can I please be allowed to have a word in private?"

"NO!" chorused from two human and two asari voices. Chambers just looked a little bemused.

"Confound it, Chambers, how ..."

Everyone waited.

"I mean you've even got a _Councilor_ brushing your _hair_, dammit."

"Please state your business, General. I'm told you might have something to say to the Ensign here."

Garrus sighed. "All right. The Primarch is a fanatical student of your old Roman Empire, did you know that Chloe? Even reads Latin."

"Worth remembering. Get to the point, Garrus."

"He's not hot on slavery, so he studies how the powerless took power. Institutions like public confession of sins, which even Emperors had to do. He told me a phrase I should use here."

"I think I might know it. We won't ask you to get on your knees, given the anatomical issues. But say it anyway, so we can give you a hug and get on with the party."

"Fine. _'Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.' _"

Friday, January 3, 2014 -10/10-


	35. Hard point

**After Dark**

_Hard point_

The cargo bay of _Overlord_, like other _Normandy_-class frigates, was currently burdened with the hardpoints for experimental weapons whose latest iterations would, every couple of weeks, be tested (and usually found wanting). Right now, though, it was the only place in the ship suitable for field practice.

Zabaleta watched Jack's biotic teenagers rather sloppy retreat from the firing pits. Performance had not been terrific. These kids might be crackerjack biotics, but with a couple of exceptions, Prangley and Merizan, their pistol scores were woeful, and that would have to change on any realistic battlefield.

"Jack!" She looked up. He motioned her over.

_Jack_

"What is it, Zeb? I'm kinda busy."

"Jack, you know how to teach biotics. But you need some help with the firearms."

"The hell? I do just fine."

"_You_ use a shotgun, mostly. Up close and personal. Someone shoots back, you're not there when the bullet is. A lot of these kids aren't athletes like you, they don't have your muscle tone, they're not used to the recoil. Most of your kids are kinda intellectual."

"They're a bit geeky, yeah. But I've been working on their fitness. What they need is more time. Look, we can talk about this over coffee, come on."

Mainly, Zabaleta suspected, they didn't have the automatic skills of long familiarity. Every recoil was new and variable, instead of being a fairly constant impulse one's muscle memory would account for, with training.

"_T__ime_? They might not have a lot. The ones who do well, get motivation from making training a sort of competitive game. Losing _all_ the time turns off the others, especially the girls. Also biotics won't help if your amp overheats. They need small-arms drill and unarmed combat, too."

Jack shrugged, feeling a bit helpless. The old soldier was right, and she knew it.

"So what do we do?" They entered the lift and headed up.

"Just a suggestion, Jack, but I think they could benefit from a bit of groundside distraction target training. Before that, though, they have to _really_ get to know their weapon. Those marines –"

"– forget them, they think we're not proper soldiers, just mercenary schmucks."

"Yeah, well, OK. They're god-awful young too. They'll adapt if they spend any time here. They do have a drill which takes months to get down pat. Maybe we can organize one of them to spend the two days to Earth with the kids. Just how to field-strip and reassemble their weapons."

Jack considered this.

"Jacob used to do that shit. I'm not sure my kids have the patience. I know I don't."

"So find a way to make it interesting. Without being competitive. If there's a competition, someone has to lose. We need them all _competent_. It would be nice if some of them are expert, but that's optional. I could get Toombs to give instruction."

"Kids don't like being lectured at. Especially not by someone like Toombs."

"Why not?"

"He's not _cool_. Jeez, Zeb, for a smart man you can be awfully dumb."

"Yeah." The old man looked like he was remembering something. "So maybe we get someone who _is_ cool. What about Lawson? Isn't she cool?"

"She's a _frozen __ice queen_. Class, not cool. And she's thirty-seven."

"Dang. That's four years older than Shepard would be."

"Didn't stop them."

"Yeah. You'd never know it. Well, someone more their own age. Those marines?"

"Hell, no, the best of them are like Jacob, they take life way too seriously."

"That's a _good_ thing."

"They're teenagers, Zeb, they ain't never gonna die. Well they might know that up _here_ (she touched the top of her head), but not _here_ (she tapped her heart). Whatever you teach, you gotta make it _live_. Guns don't live."

"We need another teenager, then? _With_ Toombs. So he can pick up when they're missing something. Otherwise, we don't have cool, we don't have a kid to talk to kids, and the marines are too gung-ho."

Jack considered that.

"Maybe Goldstein. Hadley says what she don't know about guns ain't worth knowing."

_Sleeper service_

"_Fifteen__ minute departure warning._" Yoof's voice carolled through the cargo bay of _Overlord_, open with only retention fields to space. The biotic recruits from Grissom had just stowed the targets set up at the open loading bay door.

The Marine corporal had lined up his little five-man squad in the armory at the end of exercise. A shuttle appeared from the rear of _Orizaba._

"Right, boys, that was a good warm-up." There were groans. The small marine squad had just finished aerobics plus push-ups plus forty laps.

"You've one more duty before heading to the elevator. That shuttle is carrying a casualty from _Orizaba_'s sick bay for treatment Earthside, but our own sick bay has too much activity with treating the ex-Cerberus people. So he gets the Captain's loft for the journey. He's wheelchair bound, we meet him with the gurney and take him up."

"Jesus. He get's Lawson's berth? What does Lawson think about that?"

"She's his medic, this trip, I presume _Overlord _is being paid in something other than coin. Most of the time she'll be with him or Zabaleta on duty in sick bay. I'm told we also pick up some struck-off medic from the moon." At that point the elevator opened and Lawson stepped through, just as the shuttle coasted through the bay door. "Ten-_shut._"

"Thank you, Corporal. Gurney party, with me."

The shuttle door gaped and a bandaged figure was passed out in a wheelchair by two hulking marines under the watchful eye of an Alliance Admiral. She nodded as Lawson approached, and saluted the guard.

"Miranda. Delivery as scheduled Commander Ivan Higgins Bruce."

"Corporal, if you would." The squad got busy.

"Thanks, Hannah. You'd better zip, I think our pilot wants to show off again, and I have to go squelch his enthusiasm."

The patient was carefully lifted on the gurney and moved away. The Admiral waved at Lawson as the shuttle door sealed. It moved backwards through the still open port, rotated in place and dwindled towards the dreadnought again. The party moved to the elevator, where the psychotic biotic awaited, drumming her fingers.

"Loft."

The trip up went by in silence. Once at the top, the patient was helped out of the gurney; Lawson and Jack took him on their shoulders into the Captain's cabin area. Jack returned.

"Thanks heaps, boys. Dismissed. You'd better get to your crash restraints, Yoof wants to go home."

_Focus_

Yoof did not in fact want to go home. He had met up with Jeff Moreau, who had beaten Lawson to N-5, if only just, courtesy of some VI refinements. But it was vital, in their view, to get a speedy transit algorithm exactly right. They had been calculating.

"_Okay, Moreau. I see what you've done with the core optimization, in principle. But _Overlord_ doesn't have the VI capacity to run the path of least action."_

The N-5 gate was part of an experimental configuration orbiting a rogue gas giant. The mini-Jovian originally had a dozen small chondritic moonlets remaining from whatever it had before it was ejected from its parent stellar system, to its current position out of the galactic plane; N-5 was one of six relays now arranged in a hexagonal "Klemperer rosette", so-called.

"_Don't get hung up on the programming complexity. That's why we have pilots."_

When _Kilimanjaro's_ engineers noticed that three of these mini-moons were of approximately the right mass (over 40 kilotonne), a little more than 60 metres in diameter, they fitted fusion torches, burned off some mass to equalize them, and dragged them to form a triangle. They orbited ten kilometres from a central point – a much lighter but larger hollow "maintenance station" of a couple of hundred metres diameter.

"_Can I make use of the rotational symmetry?_"

Such polygon orbits are not normally in stable equilibrium to small perturbations. These almost were, being at mutual Lagrangian points, hence required minimal thruster adjustment. In addition, the engineers then spun three relays in a smaller triangle around the big artificial moon, at orbits of a little over four kilometres radius.

N-5 was one of these. Besides the interior relays, three more sat on the outer 60m-diameter moonlets. N-6 sat on an outer 60m-diameter moonlet, around twelve kilometres away.

One nucleus of its QEC pair had just been implanted in N-6. The other would be emplaced in N-7 when it was constructed in two months' time, and nearly six hundred light years away.

"_Yeah. Work out a close-to-optimal course for a given point in the rosette's orbit._"

Yoof's digital paper now contained a rough cut of combined thruster / mass effect effort for a reasonably rapid transit between the two. The speeds for such small distances were typically very low; around the speed of a walking man, the safe option for a massive object like a frigate. Get that up to the speed of a running man, and one could cut an outrageous amount of time off the transit. Together the six 'moons' now formed a (3a,3b,1c) Klemperer rosette, a gravitationally stable hexagon, each of which sat in a Lagrangian point of two others. The fusion thrusters were hardly needed any more.

"_Uh, here comes Lawson. My boss. I'll go with what I've got for now. She might want some Eezo from O-6."_

The O-relays linked to "interesting" places a few hundred light years off in the dark – like O-3, which by default, linked to O-6, fixed to a high peak on the dark side of a Mercury-sized planet, in turn orbiting one of the very few actual stars to be found this far out of the galactic plane.

"_Man, ain't you going to have fun."_

Yoof's skin crawled thinking about his only passage of O-6. Recommended transit technique was to remain in the planets shadow till far enough away for an FTL jump a few dozen AU out-system. There was Eezo to be found near O-6, but one did not commit the transit without thinking twice. By default, O-6 was set to dump incoming straight into the planet's surface ...

"_Your VI should be able to run a perturbation analysis for the mass anomalies that'll get you at the wormhole window without tripping gimbal lock."_

The digital paper was getting full. Yoof entered the waypoints of his rough cut into the VI; fingers pinched the bottom left corner twice and it flickered briefly before clearing. _"__Okay, buddy. Here's Lawson. Five minutes to undock. __Time __for me __to zip_."

"Yoof, a word."

"_Hasta la vista, baybee." _Yoof muted the TBS.

"Ma'am? Captain?"

"You will be aware that we have a senior officer on board. A casualty on transfer."

"Yeah, ma'am, there was some scuttlebutt."

"So we will NOT be detouring to O-6 this transit. We'll replenish Eezo on arrival."

"Uh ... okay, ma'am. That's a bit of a relief, to be honest."

Even if O-6 allowed passage, you had to have shields up, because on exiting the planet's shadow the photosphere of a hot, hot Harvard class B star was only five million kilometres away.

"I wanted to speak to you about taking risks."

"Er, ma'am, I've learned my lesson. I won't risk the boat."

"Wrong, Yoof. You WILL risk the boat."

"Ma'am?"

"This is not an Alliance ship, Yoof. I expect risk to be balanced by reward. What you did at L1 was correct, but only because first, you had permission from the XO, and second, you were proven right by events."

"Uh ... thank you ma'am. I think."

"Had you got it wrong, though, and killed one of my crew recklessly, you would be spaced. Unless I had some other use for you. Like organ transplants."

Yoof kept silent.

"Likewise, if we had suffered damage because you did not focus and do your utmost, I'd have dropped you at the next port."

This demanded some sort of response. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am."

"Always."

"Perhaps you should drop me off at the next port, ma'am. I wouldn't be able to keep up with _Normandy_ as we're configured at present. Need more real-time computing power."

"I'm looking into that."

"The second thing, ma'am, is that I know what I do looks risky. It's not. I calculate where I can and stay safe where I can't. And I'm damn good at my job. But one day I'll make a mistake. Someone will probably get killed, if it's a military emergency. But I'd do my level best, always, and I don't believe you'll find ten pilots in the fleet who could beat me. It's just unfortunate that two of them are on the _Normandy_, and one's here."

Miranda hunkered down and looked Yoof in the eyes.

"You might as well space me now, ma'am." _Well, baby, maybe I'll see you a bit sooner than I'd thought._ But she didn't look fierce. Just thoughtful.

"All right, Yoof. Not that I necessarily believe what you're saying. But I see that _you_ believe it."

The captain stood back up.

"One thing. There aren't _two_ pilots better on the _Normandy_."

"Ma'am?"

"Didn't Joker tell you? He's been seconded to the _Orizaba_ and _Kilimanjaro_. You might beat Normandy yet. But if you do, you're probably taking more risks than Cortez. Do you feel lucky, Yoof?_"_

"Er ... not so much, captain."

"Good man. Keep us alive, this trip. The man in the loft has things to live for, even if we don't."

Thursday, January 9, 2014 -7/7-


	36. AD

**After Dark**

_Anno Domini_

All that time with no exercise had severely affected bone, connective tissue, and muscle. Even his fat reserves had dwindled dramatically.

"Damn, you look thin, Shepard." It was true. Jack followed him, looking concerned.

"It's all I can do to get out of bed and go to the toilet."

As Shepard looked in the mirror he could see deep sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes, completely out of sync with his mental body image.

"Dear Lord, but I hate feeling fragile ... but it's better than the alternative."

He shuffled back to the hospital bed set up alongside Miranda's double.

"You couldn't even do _that_ four hours ago." There wasn't room for side-tables now. Even Miranda's office space was full of things that went _beep_ faster when he got up.

"Michel injected me full of some kind of nanite. Tomorrow I'm allowed to swing 2kg weights. Even that gives me all sorts of warning twinges."

Jack made her way to the sofa, falling back, legs in air. "I'll bring mine."

Shepard sat back on the bed. "I'd look forward to that."

"Maybe we could do isotonics together. If the weights hurt."

"Miranda said bones are still mending, but she didn't say no to the weights."

"Miracles _do_ happen. We'll get her involved too. She needs to de-stress. She's been teaching _my_ kids unarmed combat."

This was an arresting mental vision. "Not marine hand-to-hand?"

"Nah, Toombs suggested that. He's got her ex-Cerberus kids doing it but Lawson suggested Aikido for my biotics from Grissom. _Builds muscle tone_, she says. _Man-killing is for later_. Is that humor?"

"Embryonic, but yes. It's also a good plan. Maybe I should do it, too."

"That shit will kill you if you overdo it. I've been trying to keep up and _I've_ got aches where I didn't know I had muscles."

"But _we_ are older. Chakwas and Michel think I can ramp up muscle tone and weight over the next six months."

"Tai Chi for you, mister, till you're better. Anything faster, you might break."

"Miranda thinks she can do better. She's going to put me on some steroid derivative, temporarily. There's a pill to counter side-effects, and something else to stop me losing bone."

"She knows her stuff. Take it."

"She's more edgy than I remember, though. What was that about going to string the pilot up by his balls?"

"That's just her making a point to her crew. To fully man _Overlord_ she had to get extra bodies, but nearly all the available mercs worth having, left with Massani."

"There's a manpower shortage, right?"

"You got it. She got desperate and asked me. I told her to see Chambers, which made her pout, but next thing you know, Hackett's had Osoba suspend the sentences of some very naughty conscripts on condition they enlist with AD."

"Ah. That sounds like our girl. I hope you went with Miranda to the interviews."

"Sure. Miranda did the talking, but she's not the best judge."

"I don't think she had other kids around much when she was little."

"Uh huh. Neither did I. Anyway, Kelly and I had vetos."

"What sort of conscripts _were_ these?"

"The ones who got interviews had to be sparky, the pilot's an exception. Did something stupid and got kicked out of the Navy. Did something else really_stoopid_ when his girl died; he joined Cat6. This got him put in clink."

"But Kelly saw some value in him?"

"Yeah. Muttered something about hope. Also, there were two others not terribly bright, but built like Vega. They weren't nasty or slow, exactly, but their brains didn't grow with their bodies, and they got in big trouble. She buddied them with a couple of drop-dead gorgeous bratty PFC's who were caught running rations to their homies. It's been fun to watch."

"I can imagine."

"You couldn't get a knife between them. They follow Sanders around like puppies if her migraines aren't bad that day. Miranda too. Yesterday one of those girls asked if she was the bitch of the crew. She actually said _No, you are the crew of the bitch_."

That made Shepard laugh, which hurt a little. "More Miranda humor?"

"Yeah. The old Miranda would have given her a cold stare. I blame _you_, Shepard. Anyway, interviews. She wasn't as picky as me. Most failed in the first minute of the interview. There were two who looked plausible but something twanged me wrong."

"How many did Kelly reject?"

"Anyone creeped Chambers out bad, like them, she saw Coats afterwards and _he_ gave them to his Russian friend. He smiles like a shark, that man. Mostly, though, Miri picked bright young villains who were _interestingly_ foolish." Shepard nodded.

"In the end there were none over twenty-five. This boat is full of juvenile pirates. I love it." Jack got up, sat cross-legged on the double bed in front of him.

"_Shep_. Talk to me. What's eating you?"

"Eh?"

"I'm not your girl, you idiot, but I can tell when you're not happy. Did something happen between you and Kelly? You haven't talked about your kid, or her, at all. To anyone. Did you have some massive argument? 'Cos that doesn't sound like Kelly."

Shepard cradled his head in his hands. "Not exactly. There hasn't been time."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're back. Miranda too."

Now Shepard looked up, sharply.

"She doesn't understand why she gets to look after you all of a sudden, but she's so happy I heard her _humming_ to herself doing the supply requisitions with Sanders."

"We didn't yell at each other, Jack. And I'm going Earthside partly so some Salarian doctor can look at my bones, but mostly because in ten days or so she's due to pop, and I want to be there, and she wants me there."

"But?"

"But... I'd rather not say. Look, after a few months, they're going to redo some implants the Doctors are working on. Then I've got... three major missions Hackett wants me around for. Not directly in charge, but just in case."

"And one of them's the Nest, right?"

"Right."

Jack jumped up, grabbed his shoulders and kissed him. "_Great!_" Shepard blinked.

"What was that?"

"Sanders says I have to keep you alive and happy."

"That's funny. Kelly says _I_ have to keep _Miranda_ alive and happy."

Jack threw her head back in peels of laughter. Right then the door parted and Miranda walked in.

"What's so funny? Crash webbing, Jack, the kids are wrapped, we go in one minute. Bunk here with us. John, what are you doing out of bed?"

* * *

_Sanders_

Once past N-3 there was a fairly long diversion cross-system to pick up a maintenance team. With a couple of hours before next transit, Sanders' tech troop filed into the subwell under engineering and looked around with interest at the webbing bunks next to the toolspace where Jack's old hidey-hole would have been on _Normandy_.

"Right, boys and girls, here's your digs for this leg of the trip back. It's a bit cramped, but it's close to engineering and it'll do till the cargo bays are sorted later."

"Do we just dump our kits here, Kahlee?"

"Yes. But you have quarter of an hour to stow them and sort your emergency crash webbing slings. End of this run, we're picking up a proper medic, except she's a Cerberus officer. This was Harper's own doctor."

This was not well received. "She's not in jail?"

"She _is_ in jail, Matthews. She and the Illusive Man were close. She's not like Chakwas, who was basically on a standard mercenary medic contract."

"But she's being sprung ..." (Matthews) "... by Lawson?" (Hawthorne)

"Just like _you_."

"Actually Chakwas got us out and you got us here, Kahlee. We get it, though."

"Do you? You were Lawson's crew, she asked, I just facilitated. The other thing is she's your only hope of telling us what's going on inside your heads. This finishing each others' sentences business is making your fellow crew look sideways."

"Oh."

"Yes, Oh. So sort your lockers, pick up the toolsets and we head up to the med bay, clear the cold sleep bunks and set them up in port cargo space by the end of the watch. Jack's kids are doing the same with the XO's office, which she and I are taking over with a couple of scientists."

"This for a new mission, ma'am?"

"I'll let you know more later, but next run is to the Horsehead Nebula, five hundred parsecs, away, it's taken two hundred days to get a relay link. _Don't_ spread that around. Got it?"

"Aye, aye."

* * *

_John_

There were no dreams this morning. Shepard opened sleepy eyes. A monitor beeped. Miranda was getting up too.

He actually felt almost normal. It was an illusion which would be quickly dispelled by gravity. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

"You're awake. Here's tea."

He turned over to see Miranda approach, still in PJs. "Am I _allowed_ tea?"

"Of course. It's just theophylline and rather a lot of caffeine. Sit up."

Shepard obliged, took a sip. Slightly astringent but he felt better. "Thanks."

"No worries. Better for you than your evil synthetic coffee."

Miranda selected a blue-black skinsuit, draped it over the bed, undid her pyjama top, and stepped out of the bottoms. Shepard couldn't help staring. A monitor beeped faster; Miranda looked over her shoulder at it, turned back to him, and grinned.

"Well, some things are clearly coming back to life." She gyrated towards him in just bra and pants, and put hands on hips.

"All I can say is, _yum_. Ooh. You're beautiful when you blush. Scratch that, you're beautiful, period."

"I'm _happy_."

"So am I, I guess."

"Don't be naughty. Kelly will be upset."

Then she looked dismayed as John sighed, "I don't _think_ so."

"Did you have some kind of bust-up?"

"No. But she won't stay with me._"_

"But you're having a baby!"

"Yeah."

Miranda rocked back on her heels. "Is that why you were out of sorts? Jack was muttering something, but frankly you looked terrible at first, I wasn't expecting happy-happy joy-joy."

"I've seen myself in the mirror."

"You're better than you were. In just a few hours you've filled out a bit. Wasting away, but more like the Shepard I knew."

"Look, being a Dad gives me goosebumps, but then it might all be over. Up and down. Doesn't help I barely knew mine. Is it OK to talk to you about this?"

"Babe, you can always talk to me. I thought I'd lost you forever. Kelly must have felt worse, with what I did."

"What _did_ you do?"

Miranda suddenly looked grief-stricken. "Please, later?"

"Okay." It wasn't okay, he would have to come back to this. But let's deal with one life-shattering event at a time. Men are supposed to be bad at multitasking, hah.

"Miranda... I don't think I'm wired to understand this sort of drama by instinct, and it's hard to be sure what's going on intellectually."

"I'm not wired for it either. But I've studied it. She knows she's giving birth, and trust me that will be a massive trauma. You can't sugar-coat this. The pain and the damage is the price we pay for self-awareness."

Shepard considered that. "It's like the shrimp. Evolution in action."

"What?"

"Just something I remember from class. A shrimp which evolved as a hunter so it needed a bigger brain, but that compressed its throat so the only thing it could swallow was blood."

Miranda looked a bit shocked. "You surprise me, Shepard, all the time."

"Just high school, on board ship."

"You'd be _amazed_ how few boys actually pay attention in high school. That's why more girls graduate. Anyway, she's educated, she's felt her body metamorphose, barely grown up and she knows what's coming... Bloody old fogeys used to call it hysteria. It's a perfectly rational response to being eaten alive by your progeny."

"Is she too young?"

"Biologically? Hell no. Kids used to get pregnant when they were thirteen. I think the record was nine, or six, something stupid like that. Barbaric."

"I guess we have tech now which prolongs our prime. We live to a hundred and sixty or so, if we get the treatments. That might help."

"Right. And she's had the treatment, courtesy Cerberus. So did you. Me too. But that treatment doesn't enable childbirth earlier! It only preserves child-bearing for a while longer, into what was once middle age. In the old days there was a quite definite ideal point, the bottom of the bathtub curve, for a woman to have a child."

"Bathtub curve?"

"A graph of bad consequences against time. Likelihood of failure of an engineering part, for example. Quite high at the start – it might be badly installed. And high at the end – the part wears out."

"There might have been some movement since spaceflight?"

"Trust me, Kelly's still optimal. Hang on."

Still wearing the bare minimum, Miranda walked behind her vidscreen and began searching. Shepard shifted his legs off and sat on the bedside. The view was nice.

"Right, here we are. "The Book of Ages", Desmond Morris, nineteen eighty-three, review of contemporary literature. The best balance between trauma too early for a young body, and the later genetic anomalies like Downs' syndrome, not to mention issues with bone loss, torn mesenteries and … various neoplasms … was twenty-two years of age."

"By what criteria?"

"Well, for example, infant mortality. Defect-free birth. Low risk of ectopic pregnancy..."

"What's that?"

"You don't want to know. These days, the bottom of the bathtub curve shifts to late twenties, maybe even late thirties. But that estimate was published just before various forms of genetic therapy and other interventions became possible. Look, biologically she's close to ideal. Mentally? I had the impression she was positive about pregnancy, but… I think it scares her, too. Is that it, I wonder?"

"Don't know. I've barely had any time to talk with her. She cuddles nice. What I remember was heavenly. But I was barely awake. And, we didn't talk more than two minutes before she had to go."

"So she's running off? Hannah warned me about this."

"I don't think so. What she actually said was that she won't marry me. She'd take me if she could have me, but she can't have me –"

"I bet she's getting ready to run off..."

"– on the other hand, _I_ can have _her_. That was the last thing she said before the door opened. So she's not running."

"Ah."

"She also took me to look out for _you._" This made Miranda blink. "And she told _Jack_ to look out for _me_." Now she laughed.

"Jack's got other responsibilities. But Sanders can help look after them. Actually, it's like Kelly's trying to build support networks, behind the scenes."

"That would be in character."

"The problem is that she does this and then she thinks, job done, she can bugger off. I need to talk to your Mom."

"So do I."

Thursday, January 9, 2014 -8/8-


	37. Limbus Patrum

**After Dark**

_B__illy the Kid_

It was too bad that the recruiters had to include Jack. It was all anyone could do to avoid having to change pants, but toughing it out paid off. He very much did not want to be on the same ship as Jack, but anything was better than another day in the same cell as that damned Jamaican with the glittering teeth.

Finessing the dame in the whoresuit was just possible. He'd first pegged her as being an easy mark, but five seconds had disabused him of _that_; those crystal eyes, so hard to meet. It was the class act giving the orders, the bit of fluff in white and red only shook hands and withdrew; Jack just eased back and said nowt but missed nowt. On the other hand Jack had never seen most of the prisoners on Purgatory, least of all him, so he stuck like glue to being a Silly Billy, and it seemed to work ... except it didn't.

She went over and got tea with Jack, from the swayte thang. He couldn't hear what they said to each other but when they came back they both had a _look_ in their eye, and he was squarely in Jack's sights. That was bad enough but the vibe from the dame was entirely different, Billy thought he'd felt death on two legs before but this was a living blade sniffing around his gonads. He kept very still while she steepled her fingers.

_Well, Billy. Unfortunately we don't have room for your ... specialty on the ship. But there are reconstruction projects in London and miners with caisson experience are needed for the Thames reconstruction. Would you care for that?_

The hell he would.

But from the Thames how long might it take to get away? Twenty minutes, tops. He said he'd love the job, met another reject and was given a thirty-second lecture by a dangerous-looking hard man who didn't look like he believed them but would play along. Instinct said _keep your bloody head down_, he lived through a wild shuttle ride to a flood control repair site, drew clothes and mask. _"Formal demobilisation will be at the end of shift, __you get to take your first pay then.__"_

He actually did know about caisson work, the other reject didn't and went god knew where. He'd kept his eyes open and saw the ground-effect bus embarkation point had only a down-on-his-luck shambling ex-soldier on guard, must be thirty-five, old Alliance fatigues, no insignia.

It took quarter of an hour to pick a fight in the back of an old container over spilled coffee. Then he laid his hands on a discarded bit of pipe while the blackguard cuffed him over the head and kicked him as he was cringing. Three seconds after he spat and turned on his heel, he'd risen up and belted him in the back of his head. Another minute and he had the idiot's bus card and wallet. _Hey, the twenty minutes is up, Billy._ He must be getting slower and older.

The old duffer wouldn't scan the pass, though. Just said 'Shift's over, wait for the guard' and got on the bus in the driver's seat. Crap. Couldn't wait. The alarm could go at any time. Nerf the old guy, he decided, grab the bus, skip out after five minutes, hide in the city.

Billy ran up, thumped the driver out, jumped in the seat – and the duffer bounced back up! "_I don't think so, you piece of shit_." For that the fool had to die. Billy pulled his shank and went superfast for the throat –

...

"Well, Billy. It is Billy, isn't it?"

A hand slapped his face. Someone had poured half a jug of Thames water over his head. Someone would pay for that, and the slap.

Shit, it was the hard man. He had the driver with him. Who suddenly didn't look old or shambling any more. _"You bastard."_

"Your insults are almost as predictable as your knife work. Can I hit him again, sir?"

"Just let's see. Don't call me sir, Toombs, you're supposed to be a civilian now."

"Yes, sir."

Hard man shook his head and turned back to him. "Actually, Toombs' parents were married. Yours, I see, were not. How unfortunate. I suppose I have to take that into consideration."

"I want a lawyer."

"We are beyond lawyers at this point. You never did bother to demob before making your break, so you are still under military discipline. You know what that means, Billy?"

_Oh f..._

"Now, I _could_ hold a disciplinary enquiry over the man you gave a fractured skull. If he's not dead now he will be, but I can't wait for that, I need to get back to my ship. No loss, it's true, I've been looking for a way to get rid of the psycho git for some time, and he's got a kidney compatible with a deserving kid in Suffolk. But you did whack him when he was walking away. I've got it on video. So his wife gets his pension, you go before a military tribunal on charges of assault, attempted GBH, and murder of another soldier in time of war, which my witness here would demand be convened _immediately_. Goodness, it turns out there's a sufficiently senior officer to pass sentence on the spot. That would be me. What do you think the sentence is, Billy?"

Billy knew when he was screwed. He stayed schtum.

"Or, you could accept administrative punishment, which would save me time. It means you go where I say. No choice. And orders like that don't have to have any reason at all. So _if_ you sign here, which means accepting administrative action by the way, I'm seconding you to a labor detail. On a canal. In Russia. In theory you might get back to Blighty in ten years. Do you speak Russian, Billy?"

"Nyet."

"Good man. I'm sure you learn fast, Billy."

"I don't _believe_ this. You're a dead man –"

The driver shoved a pistol in Billy's nose so fast it should have broken.

"Toombs."

"Please, sir, just one plop and he's in the river."

"Too much paperwork. I only want transfer paperwork on this. One last chance, Billy? Yes? Sign here ... and _here_. Well done. One more thing, Billy."

"What?"

"You have dropped off lists of Alliance citizenship. You're now in the hands of the new _Oprichniki_. I mean, you're a lower-class citizen. Some sort of _zek_. That's something lower. Mikhailovich has expressed a need for people like you. I know you won't credit it, Billy, but while the rules I live by have been relaxed, they are still there. I'm supposed to tell you formally, _Behave_. Remember the Russians have enacted freedom of information statutes of a rather unusual kind."

"So?"

"It means they can scan you at any time for any reason or no reason. If, I mean when, you annoy them, _they can look inside your head_. They will be doing what they did with the indoctrinated, Billy. Looking for bits of you they can take out. And replace with very clever little boxes."

"Fuck you."

"That's the spirit. Do please say that to the first chekist you meet."

* * *

_B__riefing for a__n ascent from__ hell_

A noise woke her in the semi-dark. The whole dormitory held a numinous charge. This had happened before. She'd never get used to the threat evaluation VI's ways of getting attention, but something _was_ a bit off. Implant arithmetic said the lighting day-cycle was three hours away. Not time to get up. There were pools of light along the corridor, which should be black as Chronos night.

Some professional part of her always considered it odd that she could recognize her own delusions, or at least their precursor; an unaccountable nimbus of tension, recognizable as the initial stage of psychosis. This was the first time at night, though. Maybe this was simply false awakening, a lucid dream. She pinched herself. Felt real. Meant nothing. She wasn't alone in her head.

Actually, just possibly, her implants were trying to tell her something. The clink of weapons against restraint hardware told her a jailer was coming. _That_ was real; neither uncanny, nor suspicious. Odd time for it, though. Who would she have to talk to this time? Chakwas? Last time she just sat in the background while Jana gave Michel a heads-up about the indoctrination bridges. Might be more of the same, but not so desperate. No, it's bad practice to rely on damaged brain. _More likely they're moving me out of Limbo when no other inmates can see_. Good KZ-lager practice.

The clinking stopped. In its place her enhanced hearing caught a soft footfall. Better to meet this upright. She quietly slipped out of bed, already fully-clothed, another jail habit she found it hard to slip, although new white and black clothes had appeared two days ago... including a fluffy white nightgown. The footpad stopped outside her door. She waited.

"Jana. Would you open the door please."

_Lawson?_

Her threat VI screamed _death_ and highlighted the door. Limbo limned in red. In the next 0.1s she tried telling the VI death was a positive outcome. It didn't seem to help. Then, _If Miranda wanted revenge, the door would be splintered_. 0.2s; the VI backed off a bit. _And she said, Please._ The VI backed off some more. Besides, she'd quit TIM's service. Updating the personnel database took 0.4s. Door was dark, now. Her VI allowed her to key personal door access to green, 0.15s.

Lawson, indeed, in the doorway. "That took you long enough." Jana shrugged.

Some old marine immediately turned half-circle and took station at the entrance, while a younger one took up station inside, just to the left. Not Cerberus, Alliance military drill. The younger one stood at ease, hand inside a half-open jacket, eyes fixed on the far corner. Here but not here.

Jana half-turned and indicated the chairs at her minidesk. She'd been given privileges after the indoctrination tutorial proved good, including a larger cell of her own and the desk. It lacked extranet but had library privileges. Whatever Lawson wanted, she'd give it, to keep that.

"Can I offer coffee, Miranda? I've got some half-decent stuff, now."

"Yes, thank you. It's a bit early for comfort."

She poured two then, on impulse, poured two more disposable cups and took them to the sentries in the doorway. The old guy accepted instantly. It was fun watching the expression on the younger, as he was obliged to keep one hand on whatever was in the jacket.

Lawson actually _smiled_ at her as she sat down. "That was naughty."

"He needs to relax."

"So do you."

"Worst has already happened. I'm relaxed."

"Tell it to the machine in your ghost."

"I do, I do, all the time."

Lawson leaned back. "Are you comfortable here?"

"Yes. Were you responsible for the new clothes?"

"I approved it. The idea came from someone else. It was Chloe who organized the coffee machine and the library link."

"Thank you. Thank them, too." A brief pause ensued.

"You're looking good, Miranda. Not so ... wound up."

"That's odd. I have my own ship, now, and crew."

"Ah. But that's a load you take on for yourself, you see. Easier to bear."

"Very true. Have to say, Jana, you look dreadful."

"I've hung a jacket over the mirror in the closet."

"Do you sleep?"

"Electrophysiologically, no."

Miranda put down her cup.

"Would you like to?"

* * *

_A harrowing experience_

It took five minutes to get the attention of the captain in out-processing, who at least was polite. Ten more to call the warder, who wouldn't release the prisoner. Three minutes to let Hackett know, five to get confirmation from Coats that release was authorized.

"You can wait till office hours, dammit." said the Warder.

"There's a reason for the time. The Colonel gave you an order, Major." said Lawson, whose mood was getting as dark as her skinsuit.

"Too bad, he can give it to me in –"

The warder did not finish the sentence, for he was face down on the floor with a gun to the back of his head.

"You are under arrest."

"On what charge!"

Zabaleta took two steps and removed the warder's card, pin, and omnitool. He wasn't packing a gun. Lawson called up armed guard at the primary exit from _Normandy_, then:

"Failure to obey the lawful order of a superior officer in time of military emergency or war."

"We've beaten the Reapers!"

Toombs, who had read the signs, was covering the captain, frozen at his console with his mouth forming an O. Clearly not combat personnel. Williams was telling Lawson, "_With pleasure." _He nudged Toombs and took over cover duty.

"Funny, that. The Council in its wisdom hasn't rescinded the state of siege. Captain, the Warder is relieved; you are designated in charge. If you would, the gate."

"And if I wouldn't?"

Miranda gave no response at all, just waited. This meant a count of five. The captain worked it out in time.

"All right, already, I'm opening!"

The open gate revealed a platoon of _Normandy_ marines covering the exit. At no time had there been any warning; this meant they had the approach codes. Zabaleta saw the out-processing captain working this out. A lieutenant and sergeant of marines marched through in quickstep. Zabaleta's cue.

"Lieutenant, you will take the Warder in custody. Compliments to Commander Williams and the Admiral desires that he be taken to London for trial and eventual disposal, I mean disposition."

"Sir."

"Don't call me sir, Lieutenant, I'm only a gunnery CPO." Was it the civilian clothes?

"I wasn't aware there were Alliance men on _Overlord_, gunny."

"There's a security troop, Lieutenant, for the Alliance gear in the hold."

By this time the warder was through the gate and on his way to the Normandy's cargo bay restraints, between files of Alliance and Hierarchy marines.

Lawson and Toombs passed the gate on either side of the prisoner, scratch that, the medic. He took his pistol out of the captain's face and saluted. Got a salute in return.

"Then there's me. I'm the Admirals' eyes and ears."

"Then if you don't mind, gunny, you're the OIC to us."

Zabaleta shook his head, and made his own way through the gate. Vakarian and Williams were approaching at a leisurely pace. Lawson looked happier.

"Thanks, Ash. Garrus."

"Better late than never." (Garrus.)

"You came through, Williams, just on my hunch. Last time we had a warder problem, we shot him. Thanks, again, Garrus."

Zabaleta jogged on ahead. Vakarian had stopped the escort troop.

"A moment, please, gunny."

"Sir."

* * *

_Sympathy for the devil_

Vakarian addressed the warder.

"Prisoner, do you have a family?"

The (ex-) warder, still stunned, said: "Ahm ... yes?"

"Son, I was a cop once."

Interesting.

"You learn things no law course on criminal justice will teach. Right now you're caught up in crime control. Do you imagine you will get on the due process leg of the criminal justice system? There are no police anymore, anywhere except the Citadel, and C-Sec is mostly military. Earthside judges were indoctrinated, one and all. Every single member of the NAS Supremes has been shot, for example, and most of the lawyers, worldwide. There were a _lot_ of lawyers, and nearly a third of the congress and senate were lawyers. Those bodies are now inquorate. So, legislation is regulation. Except for the UK and its realms. That and crime control is done in general by the military hierarchy, and I know which generals are doing it. What does that mean for due process?"

"There isn't any?"

"No. It exists. But it has a different flavor. You will at some point have a chance to step off the sausage machine. _One_ chance. The Normandy is carrying flag officers who will review your case before transfer to the civil authority in London. Pray it's Admiral Hannah Shepard who deals with you. Do I have your attention?"

"Yes ... General."

"Good. Listen for something like these words: '_Do you want a hearing, or will you accept administrative action?'_ Got that?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want to see your family any time in the next ten years, do not make excuses. Do not insist on your rights. They no longer exist, if they ever did, there's a lot of heated debate among criminologists about this, but all the theories still come back to crime control versus due process, and the soldiers aren't interested in common-law theory. Just take what she gives you, and tell her the facts. She won't be interested in your subjective justifications. Clear? Tell her what happened, and ask for the camera roll, because trust me, Lawson will have had the cameras rolling."

"General ... what can I expect?"

"If you're _very_ lucky ... wait, did you have advance hard notice of the transfer?"

"There was a flimsy two days ago. But I didn't hear about the prison visit till last night."

"Did the transfer note mention a time?"

"Yeah. But it had to be a mistake. And when this civilian waltzed up with the prisoner..."

"Was she still a prisoner? Did the note say _pardoned?_"

The Warden stopped to think. The flimsy had spoken of _...Cerberus doctor to be released on her own recognizance ..._.

"Not in so many words. But it said she could go."

"Then throw yourself on the mercy of the tribunal, son. You've done what college professors, police, magistrates, legislators, mayors, and presidents have done before you. You've exceeded your authority. In your case, in the face of a direct order from a superior flag officer."

"Oh ... crap."

"But maybe, just maybe, the Admiral who passes you to a tribunal won't act like the machine which law aims to be. You will get one call. Don't call a lawyer, JAG will appoint one if you need it. Call your wife, and ask her to call the Admiral. Clear?"

"Yes. General."

"You won't get an answer, but she will hear about the call. What she does with that will depend on you. And your attitude."

"Sir."

"I'm not Sir, to you. God be with you. Go now. Call your wife."

Saturday, January 11, 2014 -9/9-


	38. Between Worlds

**After Dark**

_A foot on the ground_

_Peacemaker_, _Normandy_, and _Overlord_ docked at the Citadel before sending their shuttles to Earth. Tevos had left the airlock with a spring in her step, off with Sparatus and Garrus to mend fences with the Salarians.

For all crews, it was time for a bit of shore leave. T'Soni headed for the Presidium, still a construction zone; Karin, Chloe, and Kelly close behind. Tevos would pick up Liara later.

Sanders and Miranda joined Ashley and Cortez, who would take Hackett on to Arcturus before running supplies out to the Exodus chain (_"It's the steak and eggs run."_). Hannah escorted them all to Anderson's old apartment – now the favored _pied-à-terre_ of _Normandy_-class commanders.

"How did this place survive?" Liara wondered out loud.

"In a way it didn't." Sanders was their guide here. "The whole Strip was vented when thirty thousand husks came. Only the casino and the arena are up and running again, so far. The place was mothballed and clamped. Most of the population was evacuated to the wards and almost the last act of the Presidium techs was to drop the atmosphere retention fields."

"What happened to the husks, cannibals, and whatnot?"

"They were exploded to space. The keepers restored the fields, but then the crucible dropped them again. It took a month to recover enough power to raise them at last. Meanwhile even the tech survived, mostly."

Conveniently, the apartment was rented out to the Alliance fleet by Anderson's estate. Sanders went upstairs, fossicking through some remnants of her life with Admiral Anderson (and muttering darkly about missing items of personal hygiene). Cortez began checking the Alliance News Net on the big screen, keeping the audio field tight, so long as Liara was practising _'Moonlight__'_ on the piano.

The medics looked around curiously at the multiple bedrooms. Chloe was fairly impressed. "So, _this_ is how Admirals live."

"I wish." (Hannah). "David got this on the proceeds of his salary as a Councilor."

Karin and Hannah brought out tea, coffee, and something fizzy in a glass for Kelly, who was lying back on a sofa with eyes closed. She'd kicked off her shoes and propped her feet on the table. Michel clucked disapprovingly and proffered the glass.

"Sorry, Chloe, my feet are just killing me."

Sanders gave her a bath bag full of ... feminine things. "Here, pet. There's a spa pool upstairs. We'll get you clean and rested before the shuttle to Melbourne."

"I thought I was going to Russell."

"Not this time. Brynn's gone into labor, and you'll be next, quite soon. Huerta's still a war zone, with Silon in charge it's an organized war zone but still no place for you."

Kelly looked around. "Maybe I could have it here?"

Lawson, Chakwas, and Michel met this with a stern medical shaking of heads.

"Jacob's asked for Karin, there's _zero_ chance of the good doctors leaving you behind, and where you go Hannah goes."

"(***Deep sigh***)"

"Just weeks to go, sweets. Maybe days."

Liara turned. "That's unfortunate. I'd hoped to be around."

"Sorry, T'Soni. You and Tevos have to meet Bellerophon this evening at the dock."

Cortez sat next to Kelly and examined her feet. "Aren't your ankles swollen? Those feet look kind of gracile for the weight you're carrying. Who'd be a woman, eh?"

She gave him a rueful grin. "It's worth it, sometimes."

Miranda appeared at the top of the stairs. "Bath's ready. Come on, Chambers."

"But then you pay for it. That's a precious cargo, but it's a long haul."

Kelly began, slowly, getting to her feet. "That's okay. Maybe one day someone will share the tow."

Cortez watched her pick up the shower bag. "I think you could have your choice of more than just one. Wait up. There's no elevator to the top floor. Stand right there." He got up, cradled Kelly bodily (_"Awk!"_) and carried her up the stairs, Michel watchfully following. "Right, this'll do."

"Very gallant. Thank you! Stop grinning, you lot. Wait up, Cortez." He got a peck on the cheek.

"Awww." (Michel). "Come on, bath then bed. Shuttle in the morning."

* * *

_By any other name_

Hannah came up, having snagged herself a cold beer. "What's going to be the name of the boat? Something suitably martial?"

"No. I thought of continuing the _Normandy_ class theme but nothing suitable presents itself. So far I'm thinking _Lucen_, or perhaps _Aegis_. I've got to make a decision before taking on stores, and that means before I head to the dock."

"Hm. _Aegis_ was Athena's shield. It had the Gorgon emblazoned on the front, not nice. Planners took names like _Overlord_ somewhat arbitrarily but the seaborne phase of the Normandy invasion was _Neptune. _A water god's name, maybe?"

"No thanks. I'm not calling it _Kalahira_."

"Come with me. Let's check out the possibilities." They moved to the library.

...

Cortez returned downstairs. Liara was now checking the extranet with Hannah.

"So, Bellerophon's your pilot? Funny name for a turian."

"Doesn't work like that, Steve. He's named after a character from olden times, that's a turian thing. _That _hero gave his name to many things including a planet. Bellerophon's the human name for a similar planet so given some other features as well, the autotranslator net picked that as the closest to the turian."

Cortez nodded. "Ah well. It's a good name for a ship's pilot, anyway. Greek mythology."

Liara looked up. "Oh?"

"Rider of Pegasus. A winged horse. You know horse?"

"A horse is a primitive beast of burden, right?"

The Admiral shook her head.

"Er ... in principle yes, Liara. But so is a water buffalo. Some say the myth's foundation in reality was a ship with sails, which looked like wings."

Cortez took that up. "A horse is accounted as a beautiful creature, Liara. A warrior's transport, except a special kind of horse – a unicorn – could only be tamed and ridden by a virgin female. Kind of appropriate. Got any unicorn names?"

This got a laugh from Hannah, then: "Wait, Pegasus rings a bell."

Liara had heard of horses, anyway. "Even unicorns... but Bellerophon? I thought the rider of Pegasus was ... um ... Perseus?"

Cortez was impressed. "Pretty good for a non-human, Doctor T'Soni."

"It's an archaeologist thing. I've read lot of human mythology. Not much of it stuck, but I can look it up if I recognize it on a tondo."

"Okay. Well for the Greeks, Perseus wasn't the rider, that was a later romantic accretion. Mythmaking in action. Bellerophon was the original."

"Got it!" Hannah stood up from the extranet terminal. "_Pegasus_ can be a _Normandy_ class name."

"How?"

"It's the code name for one of the bridges targeted during the invasion which gave its name to _Overlord_. That side took Pegasus bridge in a fabulous bit of military derring-do. The opposition was a régime which had enslaved most of Europe and put large numbers of folk in ovens."

"_Ovens!_ Actually, that rings a bell? I think I've heard about that. Appalling."

"No kidding."

"Wasn't that, um, centuries ago?"

"Right, but the conflict brought biggest death toll in war – up to that point. It's still a defining event."

Liara considered this. "Pegasus bridge was a Commando mission? Low casualties?"

Hannah consulted the extranet screen again.

"Regular army, but airborne. Three glider platoons –"

"Gliders!"

"They were towed by bombers to within a few kilometres, Steve. The gliders made no noise at all which was important for a stealth night action, lots of fog of war, and this will make you laugh; the Pegasus operation was called _Deadstick_."

"I don't think we're calling the ship _that._"

Liara looked confused.

"I should explain. A dead stick landing, to a pilot, is like what made us nearly crash on the Ardat-Yakshi planet, what was it called, Admiral?"

"That's classified."

"Shucks. Anyway, there's no motive power. For normal aircraft in those days that meant the wooden propeller stopped, a 'dead stick.' Okay? But of course _every_ totally normal glider landing is 'dead stick.'"

Liara did not look impressed. "That was bad security."

"Eh?"

"The name of the military operation gives a clue to its nature."

Hannah nodded. "Quite right. A lot of the operation names weren't vetted by the Allied security establishment, because _Overlord_ and _Neptune_ were so secret, their own spies weren't permitted to know about it. Fortunately, by that time the western allies had such complete command of the security sphere that their opponents never even got to hear of the names."

The door bonged.

"That'll be Tevos, Steven. Would you let her in, please? Liara, will _Pegasus _do?"

"Appropriate for skyborne commandos. And for asari. I'll take it. Now please, please convince the Councilor."

Monday, January 13, 2014 -6/6-


	39. Good cop

**After Dark**

_A little wing and a prayer_

Councilor Tevos was accompanied by Admiral Hackett. It turned out the apartment's VI knew them both; they were already walking in by the time Cortez got there. He lost no time telling both of the name choice, and listened with some interest as Hackett brought the Councilor up to speed.

"First things first, Dr T'Soni, have you notified the registry?"

"Yes Councilor."

"Then loading of personnel and supplies can proceed. Please get in touch with Lemaes." So while Liara was off on a rather lengthy video briefing, Hackett and Shepard were able to fill Tevos in on the background of the conflict which gave _Pegasus, Normandy_, and _Overlord_ their names.

"They had to hold against an armoured division just down the road. The commanders led from the front and paid the price, but saved their men. _Exclusively_ men, in those days only the soviet empire had female combat pilots or troops."

"I _see_." _Anthropo__centric__ bunch of dicks._

"Anyway, the Pegasus bridge was the scene of the opening shots of Operation Overlord. A combined-arms battle to take Europe back. A raid from glider transports called 'Horsa' would you believe. They dispersed the enemy garrison, seized Pegasus bridge and held against all comers including tanks and a gunboat coming down the river – until relief arrived."

"Sounds like something Shepard would do."

"More finely calculated, but the same doctrine. Surprise, stealth, precision application of great force from an unassailable or invisible position."

"Stealth, really? How can you have stealth blowing things up?"

"Well, with the gunboat they shot the bridge off with a primitive spring gun, would you believe. It just goes _poot_, firing shaped-charge grenades. The gunboat had no pilot and grounded. A similar weapon did for the lead tank advancing in a counter-attack at night. A detail hid in the ditch and fired from twenty metres. It wasn't a rocket, so the infantry and tanks behind had no idea where the fire had come from – the projector was noiseless, smokeless, and flameless – nor that they were facing just two platoons. All the ammunition on the tank cooked off. The armor retreated."

"Comprehensible."

"The regiment in question used a stylized Pegasus as their unit badge after that."

"I can see why T'Soni wants the name and the logo. I'll agree to it. But now I've got a bone to pick with you about the conduct of the military expeditions. They're too expensive."

* * *

_War. What is it good for?_

"Councilor, if you want to understand why I'm spending so much treasure on infrastructure, it's because I fear what happens if some Reapers were shielded in some way. We have to have several strings to our bow."

"Isn't there a mini-crucible being developed?"

"Yes, but we still don't know exactly how it works, and scaling it is a nightmare. I'm having trouble staving off the Russian and Chinese factions as it is. Together they outweigh the nations _I_ represent on the Alliance admiralty. If they didn't trust me more than each other, you would be speaking to someone else."

"Admiral, I don't see how that makes a difference. We could use the ships to repair the Citadel."

"Do the conduit chains first, or the Citadel will trap you. Again. On that the Russians, the Asians, and me all agree."

Hannah nodded. "It's the product of lessons learned in that war which produced the Normandy battles. If we can't do the low-casualty high-tech western way of war, the Russians and Asians will do their own thing, and against the Reapers I don't think that will end well."

"These Russians. I've met them, and the Chinese president. They don't seem so different. Were they on the side of the angels or the ... others, in that war, Admiral?"

"Well ... part of an international coalition against a centralized axis."

"Like the Reaper conflict, actually." (Hackett)

"As it turned out, yes, but the Reapers were a sudden blow. World War Two grew out of a series of smaller wars. They eventually merged into one global conflagration, but it started with a set of régimes who believed there was only room for themselves in Europe and Asia, partly because the soviet empire of the time wanted to make an end of _them."_

"Admiral, _h__ow many died?"_

The Councilor was clearly becoming upset. Cortez quietly moved to get a hot chocolate for her, and strained to listen.

"In the global conflict?"

Hannah Shepard consulted the extranet terminal again.

"Not less than sixty million, about evenly split between the European and Asian theatres of war. More if you count the indirect deaths, by famine say. About four percent of the world population at the time. Fairly typical for human wars."

"_Typical?!"_

Hackett took up the baton, at this point.

"A thousand years ago, during the Mongol conquests, around half that many died over a century or so, but the world population was _much, much_ smaller so that was a comparable death rate. The Mongols actually depopulated central Asia. The Chinese had a few so-called 'rebellions' with truly astonishing death rates, like the Chimei, ten million dead in a nation of a hundred million souls, in the space of a little more than a decade."

Cortez didn't dare speak. Hannah did.

"In the conflict we're concerned with, the second world war, those casualties were over an eight-year period. The percentage deaths varied wildly by countries. Some were more victimized. Some were more prepared."

"Some were more _rational_, I hope. Asari 'wars' were nothing like this."

"Well yes. The top leadership of the soviet empire at the start, and especially the axis nations at the end, weren't entirely sane. If they couldn't use a population they didn't like, they'd kill them on the spot, march them to their deaths or pack them in transports and take them to death camps."

"So a bit like the Collector base or their plans for the Citadel."

"A fair analogy. But no-one came out of that story smelling sweet. The Japanese co-belligerents waged biological warfare, just for starters. The Soviet empire exiled whole peoples several thousand kilometres from home."

"What about your own people? The western allies?"

"The British empire did nothing while a famine raged in India, to be fair the war cut grain supplies to the region so there wasn't a lot they _could_ do. But they didn't even do that, they needed the shipping for the war. They and the Americans developed a superweapon, fission bombs. The Americans actually _used_ it. The British would have let the Soviets take casualties, I suspect, instead."

"Idiots."

"The Americans or the British?"

"Yes. I'll bet it solved nothing."

"That's ... a point of view. It poisoned the next fifty years. But back to the _Normandy _war, the so-called Second World War. Mikhailovich would call it the Great Patriotic War. That's because the soviet empire _alone_ lost _at least_ fifteen percent of the population. It's hard to be sure because of political bickering and the possibility that a lot of them died during internal purges, but that's the current historical estimate."

"Goddess." The Councilor didn't look well. Cortez wasn't too happy himself. This wasn't normally covered in school.

Hannah quietly intervened. "Cortez, is that for the Councilor?" He had the hot chocolate in his hand, and hastily passed it over.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Councilor, do be circumspect talking to the Mikhailoviches about this."

"It's still sensitive for them?"

"We suspect so. Their people had labor camps and death squads every bit as bad as the axis. Just less ... efficient."

"Is all that normal for human wars?"

"No. But there have been some shocking outliers. The Mongols, the Spanish in South America. The Japanese in particular hardly ever surrendered till almost the end, so their troops were generally slaughtered. Civilians killed themselves to the last woman jumping over a cliff with her baby. The worst is probably the 'Chaco war' a century before, which killed off about_ ninety percent_ of the male population of one belligerent nation."

"Goddess. What about Operation Overlord?"

"That was the western theatre of operations. A technological war. Comparatively few civilians died, perhaps two to three percent of military."

"Still bad, but sane. And that's typical?"

"More or less. The invading western alliance, including the British whose troops took the bridge, fought a rational war with rational tactics from strong defensive positions – at least after the first shock of being attacked. After a fairly prolonged series of air and sea battles they had more or less denied the oceans and sky to the axis, and they never really lost that technical edge, so their industries and populations couldn't be significantly touched. At that point they took the offensive."

"More or less what you're planning to do to the Reapers."

"Exactly. Remember, though, Mikhailovich's people had a different experience. They barely had a navy at all, because their sea ports are blockaded by ice for half the year. The Soviets were a land power, like the Chinese. For both, traditional doctrine was to overwhelm an enemy so they can't be seen for the number of their executioners. If the soviet empire had got to Japan first there could easily have been ten million dead."

"So. Mikhailovich doesn't agree with Hackett's approach?"

"That's what we're trying to tell you, and his influence in the Alliance command is considerable. It's only Steven Hackett's success so far that has allowed him to prevail. You realise what would have happened after Shanxi, now, if you hadn't brokered the deal? We owe you a debt. So do the Turians."

"The Turians would have slain them all."

"Bet on it not. Earth's population was twice that of Palaven, most of it Asian. Russian or Chinese commanders would swarm whatever's left of the Reapers with hundreds of millions, perhaps billions, of troops. I don't _think_ that would work. But it might have worked against Palaven, given the edge in nuclear weapons."

"The Turians had nuclear weapons, too."

"No, Councilor, with respect, they do not and did not. We have yet to find a race which has the depth of knowledge and experience we have with them. Most technical civilisations have some form of world government by the time they figure out fission."

"The Krogan didn't."

"Look at Tuchanka. The Turian hierarchy never got to the advanced fusion weapons we perfected two centuries ago, certainly not before space flight promoted kinetic strikes as alternatives. Palaven could have been Tuchanka, in spades. So could Earth."

"But it wasn't."

"We got lucky. It staggered me when I heard that the Ilium matriarchs had spent billions on acquiring _fission_ weapons. The first thing a western commander would do is use the cores to make two- or three-stage _fusion_ weapons."

"Fusion? That's barely worth the extra manufacturing. You get a bigger bang burning a bit of deuterium or tritium, but barely twice the yield."

By this time Liara was back from sorting the supplies on _Pegasus_. "Councilor, that was what I told you two weeks ago. I've since had to change my mind. Hannah is talking about an upgrade _three orders of magnitude more powerful_. That's just what the human superpowers were building two centuries ago."

"Goddess! Did the Turians ever do that? Did we? Did the _Protheans_?"

"No, no, and Javik says no. We still don't know how it was done, but that they did it is _indisputable_. The craters in the Pacific alone are still there. We know the name of the design and broad principles of its construction, but Garrus thinks it would take not less than three years and a _major_ diversion of industry to replicate, because the humans keep certain tricks of that trade a deep, dark secret."

Tevos shivered. So did Cortez. He poured himself a chocolate, too.

"These armies against the Reapers. Mostly Krogan?"

"Maybe. I don't think so. Though I don't think much of their training or equipment, Mikhailov has a hundred million troopers _right now,_ who are unquestionably human."

Tuesday, January 14, 2014 -6/6-


	40. Night Flight to the Arras end of nowhere

**After Dark**

_A__nabasis_

Liara waited by the dock gate with Coreen Lemaes as Coats approached with Bryson. They were almost the last passengers for the head of the Nest chain. They stopped just short and Coats threw a sloppy, happy salute. "Two more for the _Skylark_, ma'am."

Liara turned to Ann Bryson. "How much?"

"He and Williams got into a stupid competition, I think it was five shots before Hackett came in and gave them the evil eye. I heard Williams say _whups_ and make like she was asleep at the bar."

"Nonsense, m'dear. She slid to the ground 'cos she can't hold her liquor. And 'm not on duty, evil eyes don't work on me."

Liara sighed. "If I have to notice this it will be bad. Do see him safely below, Ann."

"You can't notice me. 'M a colonel now. Staff rank, hey?"

"A civilian cat may look at a King, colonel, and _this_ uniform – Liara tweaked the lapel of her very civilian business suit – outranks anything military. Especially once you're on board. _Pegasus_ might be a civilian ship but _I_ am the captain. Go sleep it off."

"Got plenty of time to sleep later. Got months to sleep."

Coreen Lemaes was unimpressed. Ann Bryson did not look happy. But T'Soni resolutely failed to take offence. Coreen sighed a sigh.

"Dr Bryson. Get him to, um. The Engineering subwell. Let's see if he can work out where he is, and who he is, when he wakes up. Those two others, Liara?"

Another human and an asari were appearing in the middle distance from baggage claim. Ann turned as she gently urged Coats through to the airlock. "That's James Vega. I don't know the other one."

Liara looked up absently from her manifest. "Ah. Treeya Nuwani. A very young old student."

Vega was carrying his duffel over his shoulder, and a pack for a small asari with whom he was having an ... animated discussion about baggage. They barely noticed Lemaes' presence till Vega bumped into her. He looked up in some surprise, not at all disconcerted by the stony glare.

"Hey, Liara. Hi babe, sorry, couldn't see you for the duffel. I think my footlocker's already aboard? We came on the _Normandy_'s shuttle."

"So where's mine, you military clown?" Nuwani was not very happy.

"Hey, I'm not actually your flunky. My duffel was in baggage claim. You got me to carry this thing, I thought you'd filled out a baggage transit request too."

"You said last night you'd handle it!"

Liara inclined her head at Lemaes, who retreated to the gate's comm terminal.

"Was I drunk?"

"How should I know? You were as bullheaded then as you are now!"

"That's 'cos I'm still drunk."

Liara quietly let them be, arguing the toss of who said what; she vehemently suspected a Vega ploy. After half a minute, Treeya registered her presence.

"Dr T'Soni? What are you doing here?"

Lemaes looked up from the terminal and gave a nod.

"This is the good ship _Pegasus_, Treeya, Dr Liara T'Soni commanding. Is Mr Vega upsetting you? Or you him?"

"_Oh_ no." She put her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I saw _Pegasus_ on the boarding notice but had no idea it was yours. I only got the transfer request a day ago; this has been all very sudden."

"Not too sudden to be distracted by Lieutenant Vega, I see. James, I do believe you are drunk. I think perhaps it would be best if you were to catch the next frigate. In, um, three days' time. That would be... _Overlord. And_ you can have a discussion with baggage claim about forwarding Treeya's footlocker. I'm sure Anderson's apartment will be a comfortable stopover for that time."

Lemaes raised an quizzical eyebrow; she had already located the missing item. James looked suddenly panicked and very sober. Liara rather doubted that he had ever been drunk. Treeya just looked very alarmed.

"No! I mean, I'll buy new clothes if need be from the commissary! I can do that, can't I? Don't put James off on my account."

"Are you _sure?_" James was now merely looking apprehensive.

"Yes!" Very well. She cast a glance at Lemaes.

"I spoke to a Steven Cortez, and he's sending the required item off now, ma'am."

"Very well, panic over. Vega. You and Nuwani here will bunk in the port cargo bay."

"What, together, Liara? I mean, ma'am?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. I'm sorry, but you two are the last to board, the crew bunks are all allocated. Unpack and show Nuwani here how to rig a restraint harness. I mean, crash webbing. You have," she consulted her omnitool, "around twenty-five minutes. _Move_, Lieutenant."

* * *

_Vol de nuit_

Coats woke in a cramped toolspace, lit red to preserve actinic vision. He hadn't undressed and his restraint harness was still tight. From long practice his hand found the manual detent and unlatched the webbing without much input from a still-groggy ego.

_God, how did I get here?_ Pieces of that last wild party stitched together as he pulled on his boots and took the elevator to the crew level, where he spent a few minutes cursing his headache, his stupidity, whiskey, alcohol intolerance, and naval toilets, not necessarily in that order.

"Coffee," he croaked at the _laevo_ service VI. It came, a default ristretto. He didn't care and retreated to the table. He was finishing it by the time Bryson passed by.

"Ann!" She turned. "Look, sit a moment, would you?"

"I'm getting tea. You look like you've had quite enough fluids."

"Would you deny a drink to a dying man?"

"Hmm. Let me think about that."

Laughing hurt. He got up and ordered tea, Earl Grey, no milk, by her side.

"Look, I'm sorry. _In vino veritas_, and all that."

"Mm hmm. I didn't say no."

Coats' brow furrowed, trying to recall more detail. He'd been smitten by the xenobiologist since meeting her at Archer's lab, and pursued her in a necessarily sporadic fashion over the next few months. She seemed to enjoy the attention, but for some reason she was a very reluctant potential girlfriend.

She'd finally gone out with him just before his appointment to the _Orizaba_ by Hackett. He'd then made a fairly lewd proposition at a wild party after returning from the revelations and celebrations over Shepard at N-5. It probably hadn't gone well, but the annoying thing was that he couldn't remember the details, and nothing about her answer.

"You didn't?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Of _course_ I'll go Reaper hunting with you. In fact, I've been ordered to."

"Uh..."

"Let's get you and your tea back to your bunk. We've hours to go yet."

* * *

_Voyage au bout de la nuit_

Bellerophon was smoothly guiding _Pegasus _through waypoints to Mare Crisium and the L-1 relay when Liara came up and took the co-pilot seat.

"At least we don't have to stress about tracking space debris anymore."

What remained was tracked centrally in a database the Pegasus VI consulted at each waypoint. Cislunar space was now repopulated with satellites, but the shattered trash from the old ones was being steadily picked up by robot swarms, and most of all that was now in orbits lower than the Citadel.

"Once the Citadel's in a geosynchronous orbit there's really nothing between us and the moon."

For a variety of reasons short-term repairs were simpler in geosynchronous orbit. Once basic structural integrity had been restored these went much faster than anticipated, on account of the keepers. The downside was the keepers would without hesitation or notice raid construction materials stored for other projects.

"Tevos tells me the medium-term plan is to place the Citadel at the L2 point, well into Earth's anteumbra, so there would be shade – the Sun would oscillate through annular eclipses."

"I guess once relays with sufficient capacity are built it might be hauled back to the Widow nebula?"

"That would be an asari lifetime away, and I don't hear massive rumblings about that except from the Batarians."

Bellerophon had a chuckle there. "They're too busy building B-21 to do more than flick the occasional ambassador our way by shuttle and complain."

This was perfectly true, but also somewhat undiplomatic. Liara changed the subject. "ETA for L-1?"

"Fifteen minutes, ma'am. I want to run the _Overlord_ waypoint track."

"On a maiden voyage?"

"I've taken it to L-2 on shakedown, ma'am. It was within centimetres of the aiming point when I took _Peacemaker_ through. It seems quite predictable and Coats is in a hurry to get to _Orizaba_. He's supposed to be on the skeleton crew."

"Alright. I don't think he's in _that_ much of a hurry, but you'd better sound for transit stations and restraints."

...

"Oh, _bugger."_

"Well, come on then. It's probably a little late for me to go back to the crew level, don't you think? Buckle me in with you."

...

"Ma'am? Ann Bryson's webbing telltale is still red, but flickering. So is Treeya Nuwani's." This meant the bunks were not only unrestrained, but empty.

"_Perseus_, commander's surveillance override." Liara checked the surveillance cameras in port cargo and subdeck stairwell.

"They're tight, Flight Lieutenant. Proceed."

Thursday, January 16, 2014 -4/5-


	41. The arithmetic of binary

**After Dark**

_Death to life_

Melbourne was not quite as Shepard had imagined it.

For one thing, it had only been hit by one kinetic strike, and that had fallen in Port Phillip Bay, near Mud island. In consequence the blast effects had been accompanied by superheated steam, then mud and a tsunami as the Earth's crust reacted to the injury. The entire shoreline and three to five kilometres inland had been efficiently sterilized along with the remains of millions.

Today, the sun was shining; there was blue sky and white fluffy clouds. Real ones. There was actual green visible, growing along the shoreline. It had taken a few months, but it was there.

Miranda had stopped the shuttle first in a city centre razed to the tram tracks, exited, turned around, taking in the nothing. Then padded to water's edge to examine the plants.

_Monitor_

Still wordlessly, Miranda came back and Jack took the shuttle south-east a few klicks. Now she stood on a cracked concrete carriageway, gazing at a mass of iron stranded some distance inland from the beach.

"Did you know this place?"

She looked back, shook her head. "Not well. I've been here before, though."

"Where are we?"

"It was once Half Moon Bay. One of many. Auckland had one, worse than this."

"Wouldn't be surprised." The one in California was a blackened ruin too.

By now Shepard had creakily exited the shuttle and come abreast of Miranda's standpoint. He began to move towards the strange rusty box. It looked like an old bunker shell, except for two cylindrical top burdens. He stole a sidelong look. She was back to being grim. Jack cut the power and stepped out too.

"Bad memories?" This just yielded a resolute stare.

"Not of here. This wasn't _my_ city. The Alliance is here because all the others of any significance in Oz are ... _completely_ gone."

Indeed, much of the infrastructure in distant suburbs was still in place. There was a significant remnant population; some two hundred thousand adults. This and the proximity to Hobart had been enough to make Melbourne the base for re-establishing industry on the continent. Shepard looked inland; there were distant construction noises.

"There are still trees on the hills. How come there's _any__thing_ left? Or anyone?"

Jack had been thinking about this too.

"This happened in the last couple of days of the war, no?"

Miranda, a little absently, agreed: "Australians were a pretty mobile bunch. Too few people for such a huge place, you have to be prepared to get on your bike especially when the fire comes, and many did, instantly. A whole bunch had fled the city within minutes when the Reapers first came. The kinetic strike got kids, the old, the frail, the stayers."

Shepard nodded. "That sounds logical. And going by their usual _modus operandi_, the Reaper strike had probably been intended as the first of a series, but the fleet interrupted them." He began moving to the rusty keel.

"In the southern hemisphere, it was pretty wintry by then, partly because of all the dust in the atmosphere. You didn't get the crippling hot temperatures even when it was summer. There were a lot of deaths from cold and exposure, though. The Alliance had to work smartly to get basic camps set up."

There were more than basic camps now. Some of the old infrastructure on higher ground, and in the shadow of hills, was still in place. The Alliance had taken over one of the old hospitals, in particular, and a bunch of prefab towns was springing up all around.

Jack and Miranda were trailing in his wake. "So, anyway, no husking here?"

"Oh, there was, you bet. By the time the seasons turned, half the remaining population had crept back to pick the bones of the outer suburbs as far as Dandenong."

That was about ten klicks inland. Miranda was looking sadder. Jack stopped, folded her arms. "Crap. Just in time for the Reapers to convert them?"

"They tried, but it was unusually difficult; most of the denizens were packing heat by then. The children generally died, but only two thirds or so of the remaining adults had been husked."

Shepard put a hand against the upturned rusty steel. "What was this thing?"

"Warship, coastal defence. Old thing sunk as a breakwater. The tsunami pushed it here." She put her own hand on the hull. Something was very wrong here.

"Damn peculiar looking ship." Jack was clearly not impressed.

"Even when it was new, yes, three centuries ago. Powerful, slow, shallow-draft."

Miranda sounded distressed; he moved closer. "These steel cylinders?"

"Carried huge guns in turrets. Didn't have to fire broadside. The first completely steam-powered ship in the old Royal Navy, oddly enough. Bit of a milestone."

She turned back. There were tears in her eyes. "So much for coast defence. Jack, Shepard; may I present to you Her Majesty's Victorian Ship, _Cerberus_. Says it all, really."

* * *

_Cry me a river_

"Last time, I was the one in bed feeling shredded." This time, Kelly was in bed and he was sitting alongside. She had a strained expression, despite recent pain relief. Eyes semi-closed.

"Bit of a reversal, yes, Mister man. Though, Chloe says everything's '_nominal_'."

"I'd get in and cuddle, but there's already two of you in there."

"Psh." The feeble attempt at humor brought a feeble but real smile. "I feel like a stranded whale. It's like some ancient horror vid where an alien takes over your carcass and converts it to more aliens."

"Sorry. That would be me, I guess."

Slight grin. "I don't remember complaining. Thirty seconds in paradise, that's what I remember. Or maybe it was the second time, lasted a bit longer. Now I'm just this bloated construction site, and the alien is beating me up from the inside."

"And it's taking a lot longer than thirty seconds. How can you stand to look at me?"

"Kiss me." He complied. She _was_ looking at him properly now.

"I must have put on twenty kilo. There's rumbling and grumbling like old water pipes deep inside me. There's an industrial-scale plumbing re-arrangement, I have to pee every couple of hours. It just goes _on_ and _on_. But you're here, for now. It helps."

He reached up and stroked the hair around her temple. She turned her face further into the pillow and closed those green eyes. "You can keep doing that."

Shepard noted with some surprise that indeed, he could. It had been less than two weeks. He was still spectrally thin, but stronger. He could lift his arm to stroke his girl's hair. That was new.

"Stars above, but you're beautiful." She opened her eyes again, slightly indignant.

"Are you kidding? My lips are a bit too red and swollen, I've got acne and _mmph_ –"

This smooch took a lot longer. On release she held his gaze.

"Trust me on this. It's evolution in action, I think. Doesn't matter."

"If you say so. But it seems perverse." Suddenly her eyes grew round. "Whoa!"

"More kicking?"

"Call Karin and Chloe. I've just felt a river come out between my legs."

* * *

_Fission_

Chakwas was assisting Chloe Michel ("_I don't have much experience with the start of life, Shepard. More with the end."_) They'd unceremoniously booted him from theatre, till he could be scrubbed and dressed in steriles. Baby was apparently coming a little early.

Kelly did not look good, when he left; crow's feet appearing in the corner of her closed eyes. Labor pain and effort were well on the way to exhausting her, or so it seemed.

Ten minutes later and Dr Kerry expressed satisfaction with his steriles. Michel waved him back in just as his mom and Brynn arrived: Jacob was looking after little Stella. He had to go before he could give his mother more than a hurried précis of events. Mom seemed to be fairly composed about it all (_"I've been through it myself, John. Go now."_)

_She refused an epidural_, muttered Chloe as he entered, clearly not happy about that.

Kelly's eyes were tight closed and face very pale, though still responding to encouragement to _push_. His own blood pounding in his ears, John asked Chakwas:

"Are you going to need a Caesarian section?"

"Apparently not even an episiotomy. She started out with an athlete's condition, and a lot of women have a much worse time. That's why we've called you in. Labor's been underway for only two hours and the baby's already 'crowning.'"

"She looks at the end of her tether." He wasn't feeling too good himself.

"It takes a lot out of a woman, Commander, but trust me I've seen much worse. _Push_ Kelly, it's coming." And indeed a somewhat purple bulbous mound was appearing. He took her hand, which tightened around his surprisingly hard. Her eyes opened a little with a quivery smile. "I blame you for this, Shepard."

"You've been talking to Jack. But I blame me, too." (_Push, Kelly_.)

"_Ngrrrgh. _Wouldn't have it any other way. _Ahhh!_"

"Here it comes, girl. _Push!_" And now it was all happening very fast. A bright purple wrinkled loose face appeared quite quickly, first eyes, then nose. Chloe took the head in latex-covered fingers and pulled lightly. "_Push, again, come on, just a little more."_

All at once the purple blob became a baby, one shoulder, two shoulders, legs, _mess! So much blood!_

"Congratulations. It's a girl!" (Michel).

And that was the last thing he remembered before waking up on the floor.

* * *

_F__u__sion_

A moist towel had brought him around. That and lying flat on the floor for a few seconds, Chakwas holding his legs in the air, feet up to her armpits, restoring blood to brain. She was irritatingly ebullient about the whole business. His mother came in and didn't know whether to laugh or cry, she said. Michel was more upset. _"I'm so sorry Shepard, I should have thought more about your injuries."_

He'd never live this down, but didn't care. He'd been more concerned about Kelly. Still, although clearly very tired, she was awake and smiling. Chakwas had cleared the child's nasal passages and this little wrinkled monkey face was now, to all appearances, asleep. Or at least, the eyes were closed.

"What's the name?" asked Mom. They'd been thinking about what to call this new person swaddled in white cloth against Kelly's chest, but only settled on a girl's name yesterday. Kelly glanced up at him. He nodded.

"_Hannah, meet life. _Zoë."

Saturday, January 18, 2014 -5/5-


End file.
